Follow the Leader
by danceoftheheart
Summary: This one takes place in the same little ‘universe’ as my Bed of Roses series. Gil and Sara are married and still working at the lab. Ecklie is Sara’s immediate supervisor and this case file happens somewhere between their first and second anniversaries
1. Chapter 1

Follow the Leader

A/N: This one takes place in the same little 'universe' as my Bed of Roses series. Gil and Sara are married and still working at the lab. Ecklie is Sara's immediate supervisor and this case file happens somewhere between their first and second anniversaries.

Follow the Leader

Part I

_It started out simply enough. A comment posted on a page meant to be a joke but unfortunately turned into something beyond comprehension. No one was supposed to get hurt. Everyone was just supposed to laugh and go on with their lives. No one was supposed to take it seriously. No one was supposed to get angry. No one was supposed to die._

The body lay just as it had landed; much in the way a sack of wet cement might if it had jumped off a seven story building. I took a hard look upwards, calculating the angles, doing the math in my head, deciding that the position of the body coincided with the flight path. There were the usual stains of blood and body fluids painting a grotesque tattoo against the unforgiving pavement. I snapped a couple of pictures before getting too close, using the detailed lens as my eyes to pick up anything unusual. My gut was telling me that something was off but whatever that 'something' was eluded me for the time being.

"Ah, shit. That's a waste." My shadow, Sergeant O'Riley, paused at the head of the body and shoved his hands into his pockets. "No more than twenty."

I nodded, moving to the side to capture another couple of stills. "You're going to want to start questioning witnesses. This was no accident."

"We're on it. Brass was first on the scene and called it. He's with the room-mate as we speak. We'd already figured out what was what. Just waiting on your confirmation. Anyone coming to help with the collection?"

I shook my head. "I'm solo tonight. Everyone's banked. Doc Robbin's doing housecalls. I'm stuck until either he or David can make it here to pronounce." I shivered in the cross breeze. Summer nights in the desert. Sometimes the wind could cut right through you.

"Hey, you want a coffee, Sara?"

"That would be wonderful. Anything hot, Ray."

"You got it. Back in a few."

My attention zeroed back onto the victim. I pulled out my PDA and hit record. "Hispanic male, about 6'1", weight to be confirmed at autopsy. Body catapulted from an approximate six story height. No obvious ligature marks, gunshots or knife wounds. All contusions seem to be consistent with fall and impact." I clicked off the recorder, looking closer at the young man's face. Glasses. There you go. That was what was bothering me before. I clicked the recorder back on. "Victim was still wearing glasses when he hit the ground." I stopped recording. If I'd had any doubts about whether or not this was a suicide, most would have been confirmed on that alone. Suicides tended to remove their glasses before jumping.

My cell phone buzzed and I jumped. I hated it when that happened. Grissom. "Hello, Gilbert. Checking in?"

"More like checking out. I'm heading home. I need to do some studying before I go to court at eleven."

"There's some of that bean salad in the refrigerator. Help yourself." Actually, there was a lot of bean salad left over in the fridge. Remnants of a terrible, experimental recipe from yesterday's dinner. We'd ended up ordering pizza but neither one of us wanted to waste the salad. The ingredients had been rather pricey.

He snickered. "That's a little heavy at this hour for me."

"Brain food, Gil. Can't go without it!"

"I'll take that under advisement. Are you almost through?"

"Yes and no. I'm in a holding pattern until someone from the coroner's office…oh…hey David…Griss…gotta run. Danger Dave is here. I'll try to make it home before you have to leave."

"Sounds good." There was a small pause. "I'll save you some salad."

It was heading for nine by the time I pulled into our garage. I was ready to drop. Shower. Shower. Shower. I wanted one so badly I swear my heartbeat was throbbing 'shower' rather than thump thump thump.

I fumbled my keys into the lock and swung the door wide. It was awfully quiet. Where was the dog? "Gil? Gil? Did you forget to pick up Bruno from the sitter's?"

No answer. Maybe he'd fallen asleep. We'd both had a long night. I dropped my keys on the little table by the door, taking a glance at the kitchen as I went passed. There was a dish drying on the rack. He'd been in there and his truck was parked in the garage. He had to be home.

I trudged up the stairs. I didn't hear the shower running. "Gil?"

A strange taste filled my mouth. Something didn't smell right. It smelled…metallic! I whipped my gun out of my holster, not even thinking twice about going back downstairs. I softened my steps, sneaking a look around the corner and just about lost it. The smell was stronger here. Fear coated my skin in a frigid sweat. My palm was sweaty on the grip of my gun. My mind was shooting off in so many directions at once that I could barely focus.

I edged closer…hardly breathing…until I could see into the bedroom. The smell was so strong my tongue was bathed in it. And I could see it. I could see the red stains on the carpet, the trails that coursed down the duvet cover and pooled at the foot of the bed. I tottered back and forth, torn between the need to see where the blood was coming from and the fear that I already knew where it was coming from.

I didn't know what to do! There was so much blood. If it was Gil's…I swallowed hard. Think Sara! Think. I couldn't just go into the room. What if…what if there was still someone in there. What if there wasn't and Gil was bleeding to death and needed me? I clicked the safety off my gun, hauling out my cellphone as I quivered on the landing. If there was someone still in the house then they already knew I was here. Calling for help was my best option. If something happened to me at least help was on its way. I made the call, shaking severely, requesting both police back-up and an ambulance and was told the ETA was two minutes. When no one came at me I inched my way forward.

I could see the top of the bed. It was messed up; pillows and sheets tossed haphazardly. All the signs of a struggle. There was a mound in the middle of the mattress. Very still. I sort of lost it then. I kicked in the door, rounding it with gun at the ready. Nothing moved. Nothing jumped out at me. I could see into the bathroom. No one there. The closet was the last place to look. Another boot of my foot sent the door to it wide. Again, no one there.

I turned back to the bed. Gasping for breath I staggered forward staring at the mound and the horrendous crimson stain that soaked that area. Tears were running down my cheeks but I didn't feel them. The gun dropped from my hand but I didn't notice. Forgetting about procedure and everything I'd ever been taught, I reached forward and pulled the bedspread back from the bed.

I had to know…I had to see…

My scream split the morning air and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

_Follow the Leader_

Part II

_It started out simply enough. A comment posted on a page meant to be a joke but unfortunately turned into something beyond comprehension. No one was supposed to get hurt. Everyone was just supposed to laugh and go on with their lives. No one was supposed to take it seriously. No one was supposed to get angry. No one was supposed to die._

_I was left with two choices. Admit what I'd done and ruin my life beyond recognition or try to make it look like an accident. Hide the evidence or forfeit my life. In the end, the decision wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be._

When quitting time came, I was still deep into paperwork. The new budget, while generous to the extreme with regard to my equipment requisition, failed to account for delivery, training and maintenance on said equipment. I had to have a new proposal finished before I left. I was nearly there but the lab had been jumping all night and though I'd managed to keep on top of things, my paperwork was an unfortunate casualty of all of the delays.

I took off my glasses, squinting at the harsh beams of florescent lights on my naked eyes. My lenses filtered the office lighting so that I got less headaches but I'd been wearing the damn things for close to four hours straight so filtered or not I was on the verge of a good one. I needed to make an optometrist appointment and fast. My prescription probably needed an update considering it was over two years since my last appointment. I popped a couple of headache pills and hoped for the best.

I looked back at the mound of paper and decided that there was no conceivable way I was going to finish. I picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. "Judy?"

"Yes, Dr. Grissom?"

"Has Conrad Ecklie come in yet?"

"No sir. He's not due for another hour."

"That's what I thought. Thanks, Judy." This was ridiculous. Preparing for court was really much more important than anything I was doing right now. "I'll call his voicemail."

I left a message that was both short and succinct, fully expecting Ecklie to come after me in a big way but didn't waste much time on it. I shut down my computer, feed my friends and grabbed my briefcase. Time to head home.

On the way to the locker room I decided that there was one person I should check in with before I went on my way. I pressed speed-dial one and soon heard, "Hello, Gilbert. Checking in?"

She made me smile no matter how bad my mood was. "More like checking out. I'm heading home. I need to do some studying before I go to court at eleven."

"There's some of that bean salad in the refrigerator. Help yourself." That salad. The mere thought of it had my stomach turning. What a disaster that was. I hope she burned the recipe. Still, I had to laugh. "That's a little heavy at this hour for me."

"Brain food, Gil. Can't go without it!"

"I'll take that under advisement. Are you almost through?" I exchanged my work stuff for my civilian stuff and slammed my locker door home.

"Yes and no. I'm in a holding pattern until someone from the coroner's office…oh…hey David…Griss…gotta run. Danger Dave is here. I'll try to make it home before you have to leave."

"Sounds good." I grabbed my keys and couldn't resist adding, "I'll save you some salad."

After phoning Sara, I took my time getting home because I decided it would be nice to have something decent to eat when I got there. Neither of us had had the time to shop. Our refrigerator was decidedly bare. To shop, however, required money, an item of which I currently had none. I stopped by the bank machine on the way and then moved onto the supermarket, still chuckling occasionally when I thought of dinner the night before. They'd tried so hard to be polite and to eat a couple of spoonfuls but there was no way either of them could make it through. Bean salad! Even Bruno had turned his nose up at that concoction.

_Bruno. Right. Had to remember to pick him up from the sitter's on my way home._

I cruised the aisles looking for something edible and ended up with an old stand-by. A stop by the dairy case yielded eggs and cheese, another in produce some nice fresh vegetables. Everything I needed for one of my signature omelets. I'd make enough for two. Sara would probably be home in time to share it with me and if not, Bruno would eat her share.

I stopped for coffee too; a nice mocha blend for my wife and a dark roast for me. It wasn't likely that Sara would sleep before I got back from court so she'd really appreciate the little boost.

I let myself in the door, not bothering to call out because I knew by the absence of her truck that I'd beaten her home yet again. That made four times this week alone. We've put in so many hours this week that I was beginning to loose count. I'd have to make a point of checking Sara's OT records. She'd maxed out on over-time twice in the last two months. Likely, she was close again.

_Alright, Grissom, enough work. Breakfast awaits_.

I mixed my eggs, crumbled some cheese, turned on the burner to heat the pan and then dropped the veggies into the pan when the oil started to sizzle. A few of the pepper slices fell to the floor when I poured the mix into the frying pan but I didn't bother to pick them up. Bruno was usually quick enough to catch whatever had the misfortune to fall.

_Bruno._

I stopped in mid-motion, letting out a solid curse. I'd forgotten to pick up the dog!

I looked up at the clock. Eight-thirty am. A quick calculation told me that there wouldn't be enough time for omelets when I got back so I wrapped up everything and put it back in the refrigerator to keep for tomorrow. I downed a couple of mouthfuls of cereal and then grabbed my keys thinking I could just pop over, grab the dog on foot, rather than taking the truck. The sitter lived two blocks away and the walk would be a good way to clear my head and get a little fresh air. The headache hadn't gone nuclear so any little thing I could do to keep it that way was a good thing. I grabbed my coffee, thinking it would be nice to have it along the way, and lifted it for a sip. Within seconds, I was drenched. The lid had popped off so I was now decorated from chest to crotch in Columbian dark roast. I tossed the empty cup into the sink and grabbed a couple of paper towels to sponge up the mess I'd made on the floor and then looked down at my clothes. The stain was very noticeable and unfortunately, not too flattering considering where a good deal of it had landed. It looked as though I'd had an accident of another nature entirely. I needed to change.

With a growl of irritation I placed the keys back on the table and headed for the bedroom.


	3. Chapter 3

Follow the Leader

Follow the Leader

Part III

_It started out simply enough. A comment posted on a page meant to be a joke but unfortunately turned into something beyond comprehension. No one was supposed to get hurt. Everyone was just supposed to laugh and go on with their lives. No one was supposed to take it seriously. No one was supposed to get angry. No one was supposed to die._

_I was left with two choices. Admit what I'd done and ruin my life beyond recognition or try to make it look like an accident. Hide the evidence or forfeit my life. In the end, the decision wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be._

_I planned it all perfectly down to the last detail. I made lists, calculated my error margin, covered my tracks flawlessly. I shouldn't have been caught. I shouldn't have even been a suspect. I controlled everything that was in my power to control and it looked as though I had gotten away with it. After months of double checking and looking over my shoulder, I let down my guard and went on with my life._

Ecklies's call caught me before I reached the stairs.

"What do you mean you haven't completed the budget revisions! I have a meeting with the sheriff in two hours. That report is part of the agenda."

"Conrad, if the damn thing had been done right in the first place there would be no need to revise it all. You're lucky I caught the mistake in the first place. Look, it's almost complete. You're welcome to review it and make any changes you see fit. Just make sure that this time you allow enough for training and maintenance. My notes are detailed. All the facts and figures are there, I just haven't formally written everything out." I took another glance at my watch and decided that I would just have to get Bruno as is. Rather than taking my bulky lab keys, I grabbed the single house key from a hook on the door and raced out the door. "If you want, you can fax it to me later today and I can sign off on it before I go to trial."

"Fine. I'll call you as soon as I finish reviewing it." There was a click and I marveled at the man's ability to make even a hang-up sound snotty.

I strode down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, whistling under my breath tunelessly, hoping it wouldn't take long for me to get back to the house.

Carianne Bennet was a great sitter. In her early thirties, she had an affinity for dogs that was exceptional…almost spooky according to Sara…and a manner that was totally engaging to canine and humans alike. Bruno adored her. The only problem was that she was also a chatter. She would go on and on with a friendly little smile pinned to her bright face about anything and everything that had caught her interest and while I did find her conversations amusing I couldn't always figure out a way to end them. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings.

Today was no exception. She'd started off innocuously, filling me in on Bruno's night, letting me know that he was almost out of his favorite treats but then the conversation veered sharply off course to the new mini mall that was opening down the block and the section of park that was being torn up to accommodate it. After that, I lost track. Fifteen minutes after I'd arrived at her door I was still standing there, nodding patiently. I was lousy at small talk to begin with so having the pressure of a deadline didn't help me at all other than give me an excuse to leave. Finally, when she took a breath between sentences I jumped into the breach and gestured to my watch. "I'm very sorry, but I have to cut this short this morning. I'm due in court later on today and I have to prepare."

Thankfully, she didn't seem to mind at all. "Of course, Dr. Grissom, of course. Keeping our city safe is a never ending job, isn't it? On call at all hours of the day and night. You give my best to Sara and tell her I'll have some fresh muffins when she comes to drop of Bruno this evening." She gave me a little energetic wave and closed the door with a gentle push. I could hear her through the panel speaking to the other canines in her care as well as their excited responses. She was special, that much was for certain. I grinned as I started to walk away only to be stopped dead in my tracks when Bruno refused to budge. He sat quietly, panting, eyeing me eagerly.

"You are spoiled rotten," I told him, fishing in my pocket for a treat but realizing belatedly that I was still in my stained work pants. "Sorry, boy, I don't have any on me. You'll have to wait till we get home." He released a little snort, but fell into step all the same, seeming to understand that there was no point in waiting around.

It was a quarter past nine when we rounded the corner to approach the condo. My walk slowed to a stop as I took in the cluster of squad cars and paramedic units then quickened to a run when I realized that they were parked in front of my unit. A sea of uniforms were walking up and down my front steps, not to mention in and out of my front door. I wasn't certain but I thought I caught a glimpse of Greg just before he went inside carrying what I assumed to be his field kit.

My first thoughts were of Sara; that there must have been a break in or an accident or fire or something…fixable…but then a coroner's van pulled up just as I was nearing the door and my knees almost lost the ability to support me. Panic was clawing at my throat, my nerves singing with fright as I tried to push past the people in my way but was stopped by the officer guarding the scene.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't let you pass."

"This-This is my house!" I barked. "I'm Gil Grissom. I'm with the crime lab."

"Excuse me sir, but could you repeat that?"

"I'm with the crime lab!"

"Your name again sir."

"Grissom. Gil Grissom." I rattled off my badge number impatiently while trying to get a look at what was going on inside.

He shot a look at the other uniform beside him. "Do you have any identification, sir?"

"ID? Yes…I mean no, not on me. I think-I think it's on the back table by the garage door. I don't know where I left it. Maybe the kitchen. Look, this is my home. I need to see…is my wife in there? Is she okay? Sara? Sara?!"

"One moment sir. I need to check with my supervisor. Wait here."

"Wait?!" But I was talking to his back and when I tried to enter a second time, another officer took his post and refused to budge. "Who's in charge here?"

"Captain Jim Brass was the first officer on scene, sir."

I reached for my cell phone and then realized I didn't have it. "Dammit." Must have left it on the counter with the keys.

In reality it was most likely only minutes before I got a response but it felt like an eternity. The response, however, wasn't at all what I was suspecting. All I saw was a flash of strawberry blonde before my arms were suddenly full of a sobbing Catherine Willows. She clutched me so hard, talking so fast through her tears that I couldn't understand a word of what she was saying. Her distress only made mine worse.

I pulled her away, demanding a little harshly, "What's happened? Where's Sara?"

Catherine gulped, trying to get a grip on herself. "Sara? Sara's-She's fine. She's-She's inside." She blinked at me in confusion and then her eyes widened in horror. "Oh god, you don't think-? Gil, look at me. She's fine. Well, she's not fine…she's-she's a mess but-"

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

"She thought that you-that you were-oh god, we all thought that-but you're here! You're here. Everything's okay now. Everything's good."

"Slowly Catherine. I don't know what you're talking about."

She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry. I know…I'm doing a bad job of explaining. I just-we-thought that we'd lost you. All of us. This was so awful. All that blood."

"Blood! You thought I was dead? That coroner's van was for me?"

"Yes. Yes. Sara…found you upstairs…well, I don't know now who she found but she thought it was you. We all assumed it was you. We've been waiting on David to pronounce-"

"Oh my god. Where is she? Come on, Catherine! I need to see her."

"Upstairs. We haven't been able to talk her into leaving your bedroom yet. Jim's with her but she won't let anybody near her." I charged past her but she caught my arm, holding me back. She removed my death grip on Bruno's leash and passed him to one of the uniforms. "Wait, Gil. Slow down. She's already had enough shocks for one day. She's a little shaky. Let me go up first and clear the room so that people don't go nuts. Then you can talk to her alone. You need to go slow, okay?"

I nodded in acknowledgement but didn't promise anything. Everything hinged on what waited for me at the top of the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

Follow the Leader

Part IV

It started out simply enough. A comment posted on a page meant to be a joke but unfortunately turned into something beyond comprehension. No one was supposed to get hurt. Everyone was just supposed to laugh and go on with their lives. No one was supposed to take it seriously. No one was supposed to get angry. No one was supposed to die.

I was left with two choices. Admit what I'd done and ruin my life beyond recognition or try to make it look like an accident. Hide the evidence or forfeit my life. In the end, the decision wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be.

I planned it all perfectly down to the last detail. I made lists, calculated my error margin, covered my tracks flawlessly. I shouldn't have been caught. I shouldn't have even been a suspect. I controlled everything that was in my power to control and it looked as though I had gotten away with it. After months of double checking and looking over my shoulder, I let down my guard and went on with my life.

It was the combination of a strange set of circumstances that changed everything I'd set in place. Nothing logical…just a hunch followed by an investigator…no evidence, no proof…just a feeling. That feeling led to a question…a question that caught me off guard. I hesitated…for the smallest of moments…a heartbeat…a breath…and just like that I knew I was back to square one.

There was sunlight pouring through the window. I could feel the heat of it on the back of my neck. I sighed, comfortable in the small beam I'd found and pulled myself to a sitting position. I folded my long frame into a corner and closed my eyes, just drifting as my head buzzed. I felt disconnected; sort of fuzzy and tingly all over. Not like myself at all. I closed my eyes, waiting for the sensation to clear.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Ah…ah…sonuva…shit…shit! Okay, I-I need this room emptied. NOW! When the CSI's get here send them up immediately!"

It took a while for me to realize that there were people in the room with me; longer still to recognize a familiar voice and actually be able to focus on his face. When I did, I gave him a watery smile, lifting my head from where I'd rested it on my knees and hugged my legs tighter to my body. As I watched the other officers leave the room, I said, "Hey Jim, when did you get here?"

At first he looked startled but then his face shifted affably becoming gentler around the eyes and mouth. "Just now," he said softly, crouching down to my level and bending close. "Just walked in the door, Sara. Are-Are you hurt?"

I frowned, thinking that that was a really odd question. I shook my head. "I don't think so. Why? Do I look hurt?"

"Sweetheart, you're covered-you've got blood…all over you."

"Oh." I looked down, and seeing that he was right, nodded. "Yeah. I do, don't I?"

"Do you know how it got there?" He leaned back.

I started to shake my head again but then stopped, my gaze catching sight of the burnished spot on the carpet. My breathing quickened as I followed the stain to the foot and of the bed and upwards. "Oh no. Oh no. No. No. No!" Everything hit me in a rush, crushing me flat. I knew where the blood had come from. I knew who was lying in the bed. I pushed to my feet, trying to get to him, trying to see him but Jim wouldn't let me through.

"Easy, Sara! Easy…come on. Listen!" He urged desperately. "Tell me what happened. Tell me, Sara."

"Gil! He's in the bed! Behind you. I found him-I walked in a-and found him! Oh god, Jim. He's there. Help him! You've got to help him!" I made for the bed again only to stop at the sight of Catherine walking in the door. "Okay. Okay. Catherine's here. Good. Did the ambulance arrive, Cath? Catherine?! Gil needs…he needs…help." I watched her approach the bed and look down, then freeze in shock. She reached forth a gloved hand, lifting the covers and recoiled even further. She shook her head as if trying to erase what she was seeing. "Catherine?" She wasn't moving. Fright and revulsion coated her face but she didn't move. "Go get them, okay? Catherine? The paramedics. Go get them!"

"Jim," she gasped, "what happened? What the hell happened?! Who is-?"

Jim cut her off briskly. "I don't know," he ground out over his shoulder. "I don't know! I haven't-" he shook his head, whipping his attention back to me. "Sara, please tell me-tell me where your-"

"Why aren't you helping him? Why, Jim? You're his best friend!"

As if I'd punched him, Jim staggered, swaying on his feet. His hands reached for me, framing my face, making me stop and look him directly in the eye. "Sara, honey…I can't…you know I can't help him. You know that, right? We can't-" his voice softened to a choked whisper and I stopped fighting him, all the strength seeping from my bones from my bones at the sheen of tears in his eyes. "You've got to tell me, honey. Where's your gun?"

"My-My gun? Why are you worried about-? Oh my god. Oh my god. You don't think-?"

I started to struggle again but he tried to hold me tighter. "Shhh…no…no…"

Catherine came charging up to the two of us, pulled me out of Jim's hold and wrapped me tightly against her. "Are you crazy, Jim? Sara didn't do this! She didn't shoot Gil!"

Jim looked ready to blow. "Catherine! I know she didn't. I know. But he's lying there with a-a- god, and Catherine, he doesn't have a face! You know we have to secure the scene. We shouldn't even be touching Sara. She called in an intruder. She told them she was armed. Where the hell is her gun?" He circled us until he could see my face. "Think, Sara! Where is it?"

My head was flooded with the images I'd seen when I'd pulled back the duvet cover earlier. Gil was dead. I knew it now. Someone had shot Gil and he was gone. "Gil," I moaned, trying to hide but Jim wouldn't let up.

"SARA! I'm sorry. Gil's gone. You can't change that now. You can only help us find the person who did it."

"Back off Jim!" Catherine ground out trying to shield me but it didn't work.

"What? You think I'm doing this for kicks? You think I like this? He was my friend too! No, I don't think she did it, but I'll bet everything I own that someone is trying to make it look like she had!" Catherine's hold on me loosened and Jim, sensing he was getting through, pressed his advantage. "Dammit, Catherine, you want to help her? You want to protect her? _Find the fucking gun!_"

Catherine gasped a breath and nodded. "Okay, Jim. You're right. Okay. Here. Sara, stay with Jim. Greg and I will find the gun. If it's here, we'll find it, right Greg?"

I heard Greg's voice sound from the doorway. "Y-Yes. You take the floor, Cath. I'll check the bodies."

_Bodies? What? _"Wait? Wait? Bodies?" I turned to Jim, demanding an explanation. "BODIES?"

"Yes. Sara…do you know who the woman is?"

"What woman?"

"The one on the bed with-with Gil."

"But-but there wasn't…it was just Gil- I don't understand what's happening!" By the end of my answer I was practically screaming. "Who is she? Who's with him?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell us," Brass fired back, like he was being attacked, which in point he practically was.

"Jim," Greg said quietly. "I recognize her. She's that missing girl from the internet case Grissom's…" he stopped with a flinch, "…that Griss was working on a c-couple of nights ago."

"God, he's right." From her place on the floor, Catherine paused. "I didn't recognize her at first. Maybe Sara didn't see her there, Jim. She had quite a shock. I only noticed because of my angle. The girl's arm was sticking out of the top of the blanket."

"Yeah," he said tiredly, "I didn't see her there at first either."

I was starting to shake. "I didn't see anyone else, Jim. I swear! I didn't-know-that-oh god, they're going to think I did this, aren't they?"

"No. No, they're not because we're not going to let that happen, okay? Okay?" His voice dropped back to that soft tone he'd used when he first entered. "Come on, Sara. We need you to come through on this. Use that memory of yours. I need every detail. Walk me through it."

"I'll try. Everything's really messed up-" I closed my eyes, forcing myself to block out everything else but the answers to Jim's questions. "I came home. Late. I was with you, right?"

"At the campus. Yes. That's right, Sara. Go on."

"I called for Gil…but…but he didn't answer. And Bruno wasn't here because he didn't come to see me…at the door." I swallowed a huge lump in my throat, suddenly even more upset, wondering if the dog was okay. "Bruno. I don't know where he is!"

"We'll take a look for him right after we're done here, okay?"

"Yeah. Okay. I could smell it, Jim. The blood. I smelled it as soon as I came up the stairs. I knew something was wrong. I wanted to be mistaken but…I knew. The smell was so strong."

"Okay, Sar. Okay, hang on just a little longer and then I'll let you alone for a while. So, whatever happened here happened before you got home."

"Y-Yes. It had to right? I didn't know if I was alone when I came upstairs but I needed to see if I could help-help…shit! Okay, shit! I can do this. I called it in. I called it just in case and I-" I couldn't look at him at this point, knowing I'd done something so stupid but I hadn't felt like I had another option. "I pulled my gun and cleared the room. I-I had it…I had it when I came in…but when I saw-when I saw…Gil-Gil, I think I…dropped…it? I don't know! I don't know! It should be here! Somewhere…" I looked around me. But it wasn't. "The last place I cleared was…the closet, Cath. Check the closet."

Catherine disappeared behind a wall and then called, "Got it. It slipped into a boot."

"How did it…? That doesn't make any sense," I murmured but no one was paying attention.  
"Greg, get me a bag from my kit, please," Catherine asked, as she came out checking the clip. She looked up at Jim, her mouth tight. "One bullet missing."

I shook my head desperately. "I didn't fire it. I didn't."

"You're sure? Not even by accident?"

"I didn't kill my husband! I didn't have a gun in my hand when I lifted the covers. I don't remember dropping it and I don't know how it got into the damn boot but I didn't have it when I saw…h-him."

"Okay. Okay. We'll get back to that. We'll figure that out later. Then what happened?"

"I don't know. I don't remember anything after that." I looked over to the corner of the room where he'd first found me. "I sort of remember curling up in the corner but I don't remember going over there. I just saw Gil…and…can I-can I stop now, Jim? Please? I can't do this anymore."

He nodded, guiding me back to where I'd been sitting. "Here. Just wait here."

Catherine came up beside him and murmured something low into his ears. Whatever she said had him shaking his head in a negative fashion. "I don't want anyone seeing her like this. No matter how this plays out, first impressions are going to stick. Go to your truck and grab a pair of overalls for her. Process her first, let Greg take the room."

"But what about the bodies. We'll lose evidence."

"I'm calling in someone from days." Catherine looked ready to argue but Brass cut her off. "We're too close. All of us. We responded because we were the ones nearest to the scene but we've got to be smart about this."

I was surprised to her myself voice an opinion. "He's right, Catherine. We shouldn't go any further. We can't do anything until the bodies-until the coroner comes and bodies are released anyway. Greg…Greg, could take some film."

Everyone seemed to be willing to go along with that. In the fifteen minutes it took for another CSI to be sent out, I changed clothes and Catherine went through the processes I'd performed on a multitude of victims in the past. I know she was trying to be gentle and unobtrusive but every touch made my skin crawl. Every question made me want to hide in some dark hole and drink myself insensible. I haven't wanted a drink that much in years. The worst of it was when she pulled a sample from my wedding ring. Seeing the bloody smear coat the cotton swab top was more than I could take. I shut down, separating my mind from what she was doing as much as I possibly could. By the end I was raw.

When she finished bagging the last article of clothing, she stood and said, "I'm going to take these down to the truck, Sara. Why don't you go into the other room." She reached down to help me up and I flinched.

"DON'T!" I think I frightened myself as much as I frightened her.

Catherine jumped back, startled tears filming her eyes. "Sara-"

I huddled in tighter on myself, feeling even more miserable if that was possible. "Oh, Catherine. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to snap like that. I just…please don't touch me right now. Please. I don't think I can handle it."

She spoke quietly, "I get that. Okay. But wouldn't you be better off away from here? Maybe downstairs?"

I ran a hand through my hair, tucking it back behind my ears. "I'm not ready to leave yet. Please…Cath…can I have…can I have a minute. Please. I just want to sit here…" I turned away, staring out the window, not caring if she agreed or not. Hot, fat tears had started a slow progression down my cheeks and my head was too heavy to keep upright.

"Okay. I'll call Brass. He'll stay with you. But Sara, when the other CSI comes, you'll need to leave, alright."

"I know. I know." I felt her exit and heard Jim come back in but after that let myself slip away again.

A/N: I know I'm going to get some _interesting_ comments after this one...but think of it this way. Part IV (in other words, Sara's point of veiw)was originally going to be published _before_ part III (Grissom's point of view and the revelation that he was still alive) but I chickened out :


	5. Chapter 5

Follow the Leader

Part V

_It started out simply enough. A comment posted on a page meant to be a joke but unfortunately turned into something beyond comprehension. No one was supposed to get hurt. Everyone was just supposed to laugh and go on with their lives. No one was supposed to take it seriously. No one was supposed to get angry. No one was supposed to die._

_I was left with two choices. Admit what I'd done and ruin my life beyond recognition or try to make it look like an accident. Hide the evidence or forfeit my life. In the end, the decision wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be._

_I planned it all perfectly down to the last detail. I made lists, calculated my error margin, covered my tracks flawlessly. I shouldn't have been caught. I shouldn't have even been a suspect. I controlled everything that was in my power to control and it looked as though I had gotten away with it. After months of double checking and looking over my shoulder, I let down my guard and went on with my life._

_It was the combination of a strange set of circumstances that changed everything I'd set in place. Nothing logical…just a hunch followed by an investigator…no evidence, no proof…just a feeling. That feeling led to a question…a question that caught me off guard. I hesitated…for the smallest of moments…a heartbeat…a breath…and just like that I knew I was back to square one._

_Everything went to hell. My life squeezed down to the tiniest of realities. I had to do something. I had to do something to make it all stop. _

"Details, Catherine. I need them and quick. Tell me what she's seen."

"There are two bodies in your bed. She's only seen the one we assumed was yours. We think the other was covered well enough that she didn't see it when she pulled back the sheets. Near as we can tell from a visual, it's about the same size as yours, with what looks to be your skull after it came into contact with a bullet."

"Shit."

"Yeah. It's a mess. But it fooled us all the same. The man's body-stabbed. He was stabbed…multiple wounds. Knife's still sticking out of his chest. I haven't gotten a good look at the woman yet but I thought I saw bruising around her neck. They're posed, Gil-very intimately."

I had to stop, my hand on the stair railing, seizing it for balance. Stab wounds. Just like Sara's father. And by 'posed', I had to assume Catherine meant 'intimate' which was absolutely preposterous. I would never cheat on Sara. I took my vows very seriously, something that I knew she did as well. The idea of being intimate with another woman while married to Sara literally left me cold. I passed a hand over my face, sick to my stomach, realizing several things at once. That kind of set-up took time to create…time to execute. It had to have been there when I'd come home earlier. "And she walked into that? What-what was she thinking?"

"About you, she said. She called for back-up-"

"The killer could have been waiting for her! She could have been-" I couldn't even finish the sentence.

"We know. She knows. I don't think she cared."

Unable to process that I pushed it the back of my mind and began my ascension of the staircase. As we got closer to the bedroom I could hear Jim's voice. He was talking quietly to Sara in the corner of the room, letting her know that the dayshift CSI was here and that it was time to leave so that the investigator could do her job. Sara wasn't responding. She wasn't even looking at him. She just kept staring at the bed, unblinking, while tears fell unchecked on the pedestal of her knees. God only knew what she was thinking. Her face was eerily calm but I could see her body shaking from where I was standing. She looked so lost…and so alone. It physically hurt to see her like this. I looked around, noting the blood and the revolting waste of life and wondered how the hell she was even functioning. I'd seen the police photos of her father's murder. The scene in her parent's living room had been as putrid and brutal as this one. I wanted to walk in there immediately, pick her up off the floor and take her away somewhere safe so that she could regroup…give her some space to breath…but I knew that was selfish. It would ease my pain but it would only hurt her more. Everything about the way my wife was holding herself screamed, "Fragile. Handle with care." I had to be as gentle as possible. This wasn't going to be easy. "Catherine," I whispered, making sure my voice didn't carry, "I need a blanket.

Catherine might have been a little surprised at the request, but she didn't question me. "Okay. I have one in the truck." She patted my arm, hurrying to fetch it and I stepped a little closer to the bedroom door.

Sara didn't notice me. She had turned her head in the opposite direction tuning Jim out but the man in question saw me right away. I don't have words to describe the expressions that passed over Jim's face. Disbelief for sure, shock for another, mixed in with a stunned but elated look of relief. I could see he had a thousand questions but I held up a finger, cautioning him not to say anything just yet, my eyes cutting to Sara. He got the point right away sat back on his heels, waiting for another cue.

"Here you go, Gil." Breathless and sweating, Catherine found her way back to my side.

I accepted the blanket absently, not taking my eyes off Sara. "Thanks." I let it unfold, debating what to do or say next. Finally, knowing I needed to try something…anything…I said, "Catherine, you were right. This isn't going to be good. I can't just walk in there. The last time I saw her like this she'd landed that damn airplane and was holding on by a thread. I know that that can't compare to this, but it took a lot of time to talk her into letting me get near her. She-she's not the type of person who lets go easily. When she does…"

"Yeah…I know. She's wrapped too tightly for this shit."

"She has reason to be. She lived through a shockingly similar situation when she was nine." I hadn't meant to say that last but the damage was done. My mind was consumed with the thought that Sara must have thought she had opened the door to the past when she'd seen my body.

Catherine eyes shot to mine horrified at what I'd just revealed but didn't press me for details. She rubbed her arms in an agitated fashion and let her neck roll to release some of her body tension. "Okay, Gil, help me out here. You know her better than anyone. What do I say?"

"I don't-I don't-wait. Tell her…tell her that there's been a mistake. A mix-up. Lead into it. Has she asked about the dog?"

"Bruno? Yes, she did."

"Good. That's good. Tell her he's okay and he's outside waiting for her. See how she responds. I'll step in as casually as I can."

Catherine's eyebrows raised but she agreed to try. She walked to Jim's side, and hunched down on Sara's level. "Sara? Sara? I thought you might like to know. We found Bruno. Did you hear me? We found him."

"I suppose he's dead too," Sara responded, not looking up.

"No…no, honey, he's alive. He's fine. He was at the sitter's. Safe and sound."

Sara sniffled, raising a hand to her face and fisting away tears. "Really? He's okay?"

"Yes. Just fine. I think he'd really like to see you."

"Oh. Okay. Um, in a minute."

Catherine looked over to me and I nodded in encouragement for her to go on. She'd managed to set just the precise tone needed and the fact that Sara was talking to her was a really good sign that she was heading in the right direction. "And Sara…we-we just found out something really important."

Sara's voice came across as both distant and weary. "Hmm?"

"There's been a mistake, Sara."

I marveled at the ease with which Catherine brought that up. It was perfect. Just the right blend of simplicity and sincerity.

"What kind of mistake?"

"A good one, Sara. A really good one. Bruno wasn't alone."

Almost per functionally my wife asked, "He wasn't?"

"No. We were all really surprised to see who brought him back."

I took a deep breath and started forward. I don't think Sara was even aware of anyone else being in the room.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because we thought that that person was…n't with us any longer."

I inched a little closer, clamping down on my impatience, listening intently.

"Catherine…what? I'm too tired for riddles. I don't-I don't understand-"

"Sara, listen to me. This morning, just before you got home, Gil went to go pick up Bruno from the sitter's. He wasn't here when you got home."

That got a reaction. Sara lifted her head angrily and stared Catherine down. "But-but he was! That's-crazy. He's over there! In that bed. I saw him."

Nothing in Catherine's manner changed. She didn't even blink at Sara's tirade. "That's what I thought at first too but I was wrong," she said, slowly and distinctly making sure Sara took in every word. "I made a mistake. We all did. I don't know who it is over in that bed but-but it's not Gil. It's not."

For a minute Sara looked hopeful, almost expectant, but then her eyes shot back to the bed and the waiting CSI and she verbally went on the attack. "Dammit, Catherine, if you and Jim want me to leave, I'll leave. You don't have to lie to me to get me to do it!"

It was Jim's turn to step into the fray. "Sara, wait. Stop. Think. I wouldn't do that to you. I wouldn't and neither would Catherine, not for any reason in the world. And I know that if you think really hard for a minute that you'll see the truth in what I'm saying."

Catherine made another attempt. "That's not Gil's body in that bed."

Sara looked frantically from one to the other, begging for reassurance. "It's not?"

"No," I answered for them. "It's not. I'm right here."

At the sound of my voice, Sara's breath hitched. She covered her face with her hands, scrubbing at her eyes. "Oh god. Oh god. What's happening? I don't understand any of this!" She crumbled in on herself like she was trying to disappear but there was nowhere for her to go.

Jim made a move to comfort her but I shook my head. I wasn't sure what she would do. I moved closer, draping the blanket around her shoulders and knelt down in front of her as Catherine and Jim stood up to let me in. "I know this has been…so hard on you, Sara…on both of us. I don't what's going on either. But it's going to be okay, Sar. We'll figure all of this out later. All that matters right now is that we're both still here." I waited for a positive response but I didn't get one.

She still hadn't opened her eyes. Fear and grief rolled off of her in waves and she was caught helpless in the rush as they drained from her. Reaction had set in I'm not sure she could have answered me if she tried. She was shaking so badly the blanket started to slip down her shoulders. I readjusted it as I tried to find a way to calm her down. I pitched my voice low as I tried to ease some of her anxiety. "Hey, still not going to look at me?"

She gave a jerk of her head, hunching deeper into herself, trying to smother her sobs.

"That's okay. We have time." I extended a finger and lightly traced the back of her hand, letting the pad of my fingers drift up and down. "Just relax, honey. Just relax." My touch did what my words couldn't. Gradually, her shuddering eased and her breath began to even out with the pace of my fingers. "You don't have to open your eyes yet. You will when you're ready." I spoke rhythmically, almost hypnotically, and when she didn't pull away, I pushed my luck a little farther. I gently cupped her hand, running my thumb across her palm until she became calm enough to let me press my lips to her fingers. I kept my touch tender but constant, trying in some way to give her the proof she needed that I was really there. "See. I'm not going anywhere." I pressed her icy hand between both of my own, chaffing hers smoothly with my cheek, drawing her forward until I could slip her arm around my neck. My arms slid around her back, cuddling her closely. I took hold of her other hand and pressed it to my heart, letting her absorb its steady rhythm and the feel my chest rising and falling.

At first, she just sat there, her body all angles and edges, hardly breathing but then, maybe a couple of heartbeats later, I felt the stiffness in her frame give. Her embrace gathered strength, and she leaned into me, trying to press her body as close to mine as she possibly could. I clutched her, treasuring the feel of her weight in my arms. I clutched her so tightly that I don't think either of us remembered to breathe for several seconds. Only when she tried to speak did I reluctantly loosen my hold.

She broke the silence with the thinnest thread of sound. "Promise me, Gil."

"What, Sara? What do you want?"

"Promise me that if open my eyes, you're not going to disappear." My heart ached at the ragged request. "Promise me that you're really here."

"Done."

Her lids lifted slowly; her lashes basted with tears. Her brown eyes looked so soft and vulnerable that despite all of my pleading, I almost wished she would close them again just so I didn't have to see what she'd been hiding. Trembling, she lifted her hand to my brow tracing the shape of my face with a hesitant touch and I leaned into her palm, encouraging her to sculpt my jaw. Her fingers found my mouth, my lips, the little dent in my chin, coming to rest again carefully against my cheek. She lowered her head and I watched her transfixed, enchanted by her naked need. Her lips found mine and softened, savoring the feel, rediscovering my taste, but pulling away before I could return her caress. She drew her thumb along the length of my mouth in a thoughtful, moody little gesture. "I thought I'd never be able to do that again," she murmured quietly, so quietly I almost didn't catch what she'd said. "I thought you'd left me for good."

I shook my head, too emotional to find anything strong enough to say to her. I buried my face against her shoulder, trying to mentally to erase the last, pain-filled hour of my life; a task that I knew to be impossibly difficult and futile in the extreme.

I don't know how long we would have stayed like that if the choice had been left to us but after five minutes of comforting silence, a voice behind me intruded into our private world. "Gil, why don't you and Sara go into the next room, or better yet, downstairs? I'm sure you'll both be more comfortable there while we deal with this."

Weary beyond words, I nodded and shifted so that Sara could stand and I could follow suit. Not willing to break contact for a second, we walked to the door with my arm around her shoulder stopping only when she paused at the threshold to look back at the bed.

"Sara, don't-" I started but she held up a hand and left my side. She closed the small distance to the bed and stood there, staring at the corpse impersonating me. "Looking at it now, I can see differences, Gil. It's close but it's not really a duplicate, is it?"

I joined her at the foot of the bed, getting my first up-close view of the victims. "No. But the differences are so slight that anyone in a highly affected emotional state wouldn't have taken them in."

She nodded sadly in agreement and this time when we made it to the door, we kept on walking.


	6. Chapter 6

Follow the Leader

Part VI

The world around me was moving at light speed. I didn't bother to try and keep pace. That much was beyond me. My world consisted of the sofa I was lying on and the man who shared it with me. My head rested on his lap. My eyes were closed. My back was turned to the rest of the room, effectively blocking it out as I huddled under the blanket trying to get warm. Every now and then snippets of information would filter through and despite the fact that I wasn't really listening, I would hear them all the same. They spoke in hushed voices, letting Gil know what was going on and what they found, as if speaking low meant that I couldn't understand them. As much as I wished that was the case, it wasn't, therefore whatever parts got through my self-induced mental seclusion got filed away to be dealt with at a later time.

I heard footsteps approaching us. Catherine's heels to be precise. This was her third trip to consult with Gil in the last few minutes. "…checked the blood on the carpet. You were right. It's not human."

"I didn't think so," Gil replied, his hand stroking slowly along my arm. "There was just too much of it. Probably bovine." His gentle sweeping caress didn't stop; didn't even pause. I'm not sure, however, if it was me he was soothing or himself, but I figured in the end it didn't really matter.

Catherine continued, "That'd be my guess too. Especially since the body…'your' body isn't real."

That got his attention. "Excuse me?"

"It's a fake. A really good fake but it's not human either."

"What about the girl?"

"She's real enough. We have confirmation that she is the missing girl from your case. Natalie Freisen."

"Has David estimated TOD?"

"About seven am this morning," Catherine replied. "Evidence of transfer on the sheets. She struggled."

_Seven am_, I thought. _Right about the time that Gil and I normally got home after shift. Interesting._

"She was killed here then," Gil said, probably thinking along the same lines as me.

Currently, that's what the evidence is stating." I heard the rustle of a plastic bag and a crinkle of paper. "We also found this."

I was motivated enough to speak for the first time in an hour. "It's a note, isn't it? A warning."

Gil didn't answer me at first. Likely, he was debating how much he should tell me but when I opened my eyes and looked at him pointedly, he caved. "Yes. Dammit." He handed it to me silently when I held out my hand.

It was simple and to the point.

"_I could have killed her, Grissom. One shot to the head with her own weapon. That is all it would have taken. This was just a dry run. Back off or next time's for real." _

I closed my eyes again and passed it back, shivering tiredly. "You spooked someone last week," I told him. "Someone who didn't see it coming. I told you something was off. You should have held back. It was too soon to call in our suspects."

"If you recall, I agreed with you. Going to interview wasn't my choice but that decision…as well as others in the past like it…was taken out of my hands. Between a nervous DA and a naïve, jumpy detective-shit! Osland could have…shit!" The second swear forced my lids open again. He swallowed hard, wiping the back of his neck with his hand.

I caught his restless hand in mind and rolled to my back, staring up at the ceiling. I let him have his release without comment. Words couldn't erase the fear we were both battling. Then, after a few moments in silence I did the only thing I could do; I worked the case.

"The note's addressed directly to you."

"Yes."

"At least that narrows the scope. I did what…um…eight interviews? The new guy, Osland…did six. You did seven."

"Yes."

"That's where we start."

"He took a helluva chance with being caught," Catherine said. "We haven't found any trace evidence yet but the killer had to have known we'd be able to narrow things down pretty quickly just from the assumption that he was one of the suspects."

Grissom shook his head slowly but I was the one who answered her. "I don't think that was an issue, Cat. He may be thinking it's too late to try and hide. That-that display upstairs was an act of utter desperation. He's hoping that the overt threat against us will make us back off. He's feeling hunted."

"And that makes him very dangerous," she replied, stating the obvious.

"But if he thinks that this is going to stop us-"

"It is," Gil said, quietly. "He's right. It's going to do just that."

I sat up slowly, easing around to face him. "You're not saying what I think you're saying?!" He didn't answer me. He just sat there mutely, staring at me hard. "You are. You are." I waited for an answer…some kind of response…and my agitation over his refusal to explain himself made me attempt to get off the couch, but he stopped me with a touch. His fingers brushed a thick strand of hair from my eyes with a reverence that made my flesh quiver in shock. I knew…I knew just from his touch that something in him had changed…had been broken…but I still needed the words. I needed to hear him say it. "You're going to give him what he wants."

His gaze didn't waver. "Yes."

"You're going to just…back away…let him have his way?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Gil…you can't. Honey, you know you can't…"

"I can and I will."

"There's no guarantee that he won't-"

"I know I can't control what he chooses to do next but whatever action he takes next it won't be because I'm pursuing him."

"Gil…you know better than this…we're in this now. Our best bet is to use the resources we have at our disposal to catch this guy. We can't just-" I looked to Catherine for help but she just stood there, with her arms wrapped around her middle and bit her lip. I tried a different road. "And what about the next guy who comes up? What are you going to do if we're threatened again?"

"There won't be a next time." There it was. There it was. The words I'd been waiting for…the ones that I'd known were waiting to escape his mouth. And even though a part of me had guessed how serious things had become, the pain in his voice made me ache in sympathy. I dropped my head to his shoulder barely able to accept what he was saying and his hands settled on my back. "It's too much, Sara. I want out."

"Just like that," I whispered.

"Yes." He sighed heavily. "I'm tired. Sar. I'm tired of death and violence and misery. I'm tired of feeling like I'm walking around constantly covered in blood."

"No discussion…no-?"

"I'm done, Sara. Ecklie will get my notice at shift tonight." He squeezed me a little tighter. "And I'm hoping you'll do the same."


	7. Chapter 7

Follow the Leader

A/N: Due to restrictions for posting on this site, this chapter has been modified to suit guidelines. IF you are of age and are interested in reading the original versions please visit my livejournal page for this latest posting. Details are on my profile page. Thanks!

_Follow the Leader_

_Part VII_

"You're staring at me."

"Was I?"

"Yes." I went back to typing but was forced to stop again a minute later. "Sara."

"What?"

"If you have something to say, just say it."

"No."

"No?"

"No." There was a beat and her tone softened ever so slightly. "Not yet."

I ground my teeth on her answer. "Fine."

"Fine." She shifted position in the visitor's chair, folding her arms across her chest and pretended a fascination with the movements of my pet tarantula in the adjacent enclosure.

I eyed her over the rims of my glasses and debated whether or not to force the issue. Sara hadn't said much in the course of the afternoon and even less since we'd settled in my office. I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one. She'd always been difficult to read. Liked to play her cards close to her chest and even after several years of marriage found difficulty in leaning on me when a crisis came up. It was hard for me to complain. After all it was a shared trait. Besides, one of the things I admired the most about her was her independent spirit. Still, it didn't make things any easier. There was little doubt that when Sara was ready to unload I would get an earful but for now all I could do was muddle through things as best as I could.

It was easy to see that there was a part of her that was still angry about the fact that we'd been forced into such a situation, but for the most part her emotions had settled enough for that clever mind of hers to start asking questions about what was really going on here. I could see her turning the events and evidence around in her mind and though her expression was blank her eyes were full of purpose. She still hadn't fully recovered from what she'd discovered in our bedroom that morning but it was obvious she was struggling to put those feelings aside for the time being and work the puzzle. The hardest part was despite the fact that she was trying to hide all of this from me, she was failing miserably on that score. She was usually able to keep everything bottled tightly inside but she was still a little too raw to succeed in doing that as of yet. Every so often her gaze would slide back to me and her masque would slip, letting the naked fear shine in their depths before she caught herself and withdrew again. It made me feel frustrated and guilty but it couldn't be helped. I had secrets of my own to keep and I was very much afraid that if I pushed her some of my motives would be forced out into the open in the process. I couldn't afford to let that happen so for the time being I had to follow the course I'd laid out earlier at the condo and that was that.

I finished the last line of my letter and clicked the print command. Though she didn't actually look at me, I knew she was very aware of my actions because the minute I slid the letter into the envelop and stood up she got to her feet as well.

She waited as I came around the desk and then fell into step with me as I moved to the door. Just as I reached for the handle, she stopped me with a word. "Gil."

I half turned to face her, expecting an argument or another debate in logic but she surprised me. Her hand lifted to my face and drew my head down until our lips met. She kissed me slowly and when it ended her eyes were dewed with both compassion and unconditional support. It took my breath away. "This still doesn't feel right, Gil," she told me cautiously, "but that doesn't matter. If this is what you need then this is what had to be done." While I just stood there statue-like in the wake of her words, she reached for the handle herself and proceeded out of the office. "I need to check in with Trace. Hodges has some stuff waiting for me."

I broke out of my trance. "Sara…leave it. You don't need to-"

She shrugged. "But I do. Just like you need to visit Conrad." She fished her cellphone out of her pocket and wriggled it. "Call me when you're done then we'll go somewhere and…talk." With that she shoved her hands into her pockets and picked her way down the hall to the Trace lab.

An hour later we were driving away from CSI and heading for a small bistro ten minutes down the road. The sun was just starting to set and a cool breeze had begun to float in from the desert so Sara rolled down her window to take advantage of it. "I'm not really hungry," she told me, reclining her seat slightly and adjusting her sunglasses.

"You haven't eaten all day."

"Neither have you."

"No, but I'm ready to correct that oversight. I can't imagine why you aren't."

She shrugged. "I think I'm just too tired."

"Then we'll get an order to go."

"Go where?" she asked, crossly. "Sorry, that wasn't directed at you. I'm just-I'm still a little off."

"Understandable." I reached out and captured her hand. "Me too. Where? Um…well, we can't go back home."

She shuddered. "No, we definitely can't go there. At least not until the crime scene clean-up crew has had a chance put things back to rights. Even then…" She frowned and blinked rapidly.

"Don't think about that now. We'll deal with that when the time comes."

"Okay. Okay. So where?"

"Catherine asked-"

Sara nodded. "So did Greg and Jim but no, sorry. Much as I love them for the offer, I can't deal with anymore of that tonight. I need some down time. No people…no cops…" there was a little hitch to her voice, "...no blood."

"You're right," I told her and flicked my indicator to make a right turn. "What we should be doing is booking a room."

"Yeah."

"You don't sound all that enthusiastic about that idea. What gives?"

She lowered her shades and looked directly at me. "Hotels room walls are a little, um, flimsy."

It took me a second to decode her statement and when I did I nodded grimly in sympathy. Sara was prone to nightmares (primarily due to the trauma she experienced as a child) and though their frequency and intensity had decreased significantly since we started seeing each other times of high stress still brought on the occasional bad dream. Sometimes she woke quietly but other times…well, I'd been woken more than once by her fighting the sheets and her terrified yelling. It was hard to imagine a worse scenario than what she'd seen today so I couldn't blame her for being cautious. I opened my mouth to offer a possible solution but she cut me off with a negative shake of her head.

"Don't even suggest pills," she told me firmly.

"No, it hadn't crossed my mind." Well, it had but not in a positive light. Catherine had mentioned something about some mild sleeping pills earlier at the condo but I politely refused her offer. Sara didn't do well with medication in general and sedatives were definitely on the, 'ONLY AS A LAST RESORT,' list. Neither of us was up to experimenting with drugs tonight. "What about this? There's a little motor lodge just outside the city with cabins instead of adjoined rooms. We should have all the privacy we need."

"Smart, Grissom," she said. "Just perfect. I knew there was a reason I married you. I'll call Jim and let him know-"

"No! Wait!" My tone was a little stronger than I'd realized it would be and she jumped. "Sorry. I'd prefer that you wouldn't."

"Don't call Jim? Why not?"

"Because I don't want anyone to know where we are tonight."

She frowned; heavily. I could see her gearing up for an argument but at the last minute she stopped herself. She shifted in her seat to face me. "Wait. Anyone at CSI or Jim Brass in particular?"

"More 'anyone' than Jim I suppose."

"Okay, good. Because I know he gave me a hard time today but-"

"He did? When?"

"Easy, Tiger. It's okay. I survived."

"Sara-"

"When he got to our house…easy, Gil, I told you it's okay. He was just looking out for us…well, me in particular because at the time he thought you were beyond help but you get my meaning."

"Dammit, Sara, get to the point."

"Jim smelled a set up from the moment he walked in the room. He clued into things way faster than Catherine or I…well, I was hardly functioning. Let's just say that if it had have been you in that bed then I would have been the lead suspect in a very tricky little investigation. I'll tell you what I remember about that later. Right now I'm more interested in why we're disobeying S.O.P and hiding out."

"Following Standard Operating Procedure leaves us vulnerable to another attempt at shutting us down and that is not in our best interests."

"Very cryptic, Dr. Grissom, but hardly an explanation."

I sighed, wishing we'd been able to discuss this over dinner rather that in the truck but figured I might as well finish what I'd started. "There's something off about everything that occurred today."

"You think? Your gift for understatement staggers me." She winced at her own words. "Okay, maybe I do need food. My sarcasm button seems to be stuck on 'fire' mode. I don't know why I'm targeting you."

"Maybe I'm convenient. Or maybe you're angrier with me over my resignation than you realize."

She flashed me a feral smile. "Oh, I don't know about that. I'm very aware of just how mad I am at you but since that pales in comparison to the relief I feel about you being here to be angry at, I can deal." She sighed. "It's probably the convenient target thing. My blood's running a little hot right now. I really want to kick the crap out of the person who was behind that little demonstration this morning but since he isn't here…"

"Stand in line," I muttered, noting the city limits posting on the side of the highway.

"Yeah, I know." By this time the sun had mostly set so she tossed her shades into the glove compartment and slammed the front home. "I think what's frustrating me the most is the fact that I don't have a good grasp on this case at all. I wasn't there at the beginning, remember? I came in half way to help you with the interviews. Maybe if I had a little more background I'd have a better understanding as to why we were targeted specifically."

"That note's really bothering you."

"Of course it is. Like I said earlier, the killer is nervous. We got too close. It scares me that we might miss a connection because I'm not up to snuff. And your resignation pisses me off all the more because you were the person with the most information and possible insight into this idiot's head and you're withdrawing at a crucial part of the investigation." She slammed her hand against the pane of the passenger side window. "I know you got the hell scared out of you this morning but dammit, this isn't like you!"

"Exactly."

"I swear, Gil, if you start playing mind games with me right now we're going to end up in the ditch!"

"What?"

"If you think sitting behind the wheel of this truck is going to save your sorry ass you've got another thing coming!"

Okay, that was one nasty comment too many. A little of my own anger slipped into my tone. "If you stop making threats I'll tell you exactly what I meant by that."

"I've been waiting all day for this. Spill."

It was all I could do not to bite back with hard words of my own. We needed a little cooling off period. "Later. We're here and I want to check in first and order food before we get into a deep discussion." When she looked ready to protest I held up a hand. "You can wait ten minutes," I told her and shut off the ignition. "Why don't you see if the convenience store is still open." Before she could say anything else, I got out of the truck and entered the registration cabin. It was a cowardly move, I know but it was better than the alternative.

My estimate was a bit optimistic. It was closer to thirty minute before we managed to get our affairs in order and pile into our rented cabin with our miniscule supplies. I got the impression that Sara was even more pissed off with me than she had been before but I wasn't overly concerned because I figured she'd back off pretty quickly once she knew what was going on.

Once again, my estimate of the situation missed the mark.

I remember locking the door and turning around but everything else after that blurred as I suddenly ended up with my arms full of Sara. The force of her mouth slammed me into the hard oak of the door and the frantic grasping of her hands at my clothing had me reaching out instinctively to catch her frame for balance. "Sara? What the hell?"

She didn't waste breath answering me, just continued to grind her body into mine as she struggled to free me from my clothes. "OFF," she said, bluntly. "I want it all off. Now."

Her stark words went right through me and I felt my pulse quicken in reaction despite my concern over her aggressive demand. "Sara…wait! Honey…oh helllll…slow down."

She pulled her shirt over her head with little ceremony and flung it to the corner of the room. "No." Her bra met the same fate.

"At least let me help…" My voice died suddenly as she raked her teeth against the open collar of my shirt.

"Whatever, just hurry up."

"Sara, you're…you need to stand still…"

She ignored me, giving my buttons another tug before reluctantly giving in. "Forget the clothes," she snarled, her hands finding my belt buckle and releasing the tong with determined fingers. While I'm sure Sara would have been content to play the rest of this scene right where we were, my knees had other ideas. I wasn't sure I had the stamina to keep up upright to complete the deed and since I was certain the last thing on Sara's mind was something as practical as my knees, I took matters into my own hands. I walked us drunkenly to the edge of the bed and practically fell to the mattress. I suppose in retrospect we were lucky it was the bed and not the floor that broke our fall but it was anything but an easy landing. My weight settled heavily onto her body. Apparently this was not at all to her liking because she nudged and nipped and rolled until our positions were reversed and she was able to sit astride my hips.

After that it wall all liquid heat and scorched lust. The pace was so furious that there was little I could do but react as her body worked to send mine to the same frenzied heights that hers was experiencing. She led and I followed until our passions were spent and our bodies were slick masses of quivering flesh.


	8. Chapter 8

Follow the Leader

Part VIII

_There's a rumor floating around the lab that he's quit. That he went into Ecklie's office and quit. I'm finding that hard to believe. I didn't think getting rid of Grissom would be that easy but I know Ecklie's talked to Willows about the supervisor's position on graveshift so that makes it difficult not to trust what I've been told. _

_Maybe my gamble paid off. Maybe I got away with murder a second time. Only time will tell._

"Holy crap. Gil?"

"Yes?"

"I can't feel my toes."

"Consider yourself lucky. You damn near killed me."

She snorted into my chest and the scraped her dark hair away from her face. "Sorry about that."

I shook my head. "Not complaining. Just…ahem…letting you know the score." She moved to sit up but I caught her hand. "Feel better now?"

She blushed. "A bit. Sorry. Don't know quite what came over me. I just had to – em – had to-"

"Don't apologize. A little hard sex was probably exactly what we needed."

"Yeah. Um…excuse me while I ah…clean up." She stood and strode naked to the bathroom.

Just as she reached the doorway, I called out, "Sara?"

She turned. "Yeah?"

"You're beautiful when you're angry."

She smirked and sauntered back to the bed. She leaned over the edge and planted a steamy kiss on my lips and then walked back to the bathroom and shut the door tight behind her. Seconds later I heard the shower turn on, and only then did I let a matching smirk creep onto my face. Mind-blowing sex certainly had a way of cutting through the tension of the day.

Knowing her habits as well as my own, I figured I had just enough time to heat up some soup in the kitchenette microwave and dig out the sandwiches she'd scrounged up from the convenience store in the corner of the lot. When Sara came out saronged in a towel, the meal was waiting for her on the table along with a sealed envelop. She zeroed in on the letter right away.

"What's this?"

"That, my love, is a copy of the letter I gave to Ecklie. I thought you might like to read it over."

She flicked a knowing look in my direction and tapped it with her index finger. "Why? Because it's some sort of trick?"

"No, it's real all right." That surprised her. "Read it."

"Why? I'm sure it's pretty standard."

"Sara-"

"Okay. Okay. I'll read it." She slumped onto one of the plastic coated chrome chairs and tore it open with one of her nails. She sipped cream of broccoli soup from a coffee mug and read each perfectly typed word. Then frowned and re-read them. When she finished she smacked the parchment back down on the table and raised her eyebrow. "You're sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Where's your evidence?"

"I don't have any."

"Really? None?"

"None, but I'm pretty certain I'm right."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Gut reaction."

"Oh, that's rich! Gut reaction. You're throwing away your career on the basis of that? On a hunch! Now I've seen everything."

"What?"

"Gilbert Grissom…Gruesome Grissom pinning everything to a 'gut reaction'. God, if I ever did something like that you'd never let me hear the end of it."

"If the decision turned out to be a disaster, well, you're right. If I'm wrong on this then…then I give you the right to say, "I told you so," in advance."

"Don't think I won't use it. Helluva gamble, Grissom."

"Not so much. You forget, retirement is really not that distant an option for me." She looked as thought she was going to argue and I shook my head, "Besides, you don't win wars by playing it safe."

"Is that what this is, then? A war?"

"When has it ever been anything but?" I stood with my empty plate and walked back into the kitchenette.

She followed me to the sink with her own garbage and emptied her mug. We spent a couple of minutes being domestic and then she leaned back against the counter and folded her arms. "Okay, Gil. We've had sex, you've fed me and I managed to wash the smell of blood from my pores. Add to that the fact that I no longer want to strangle you for pulling this stunt; I think I'm finally able to deal with this mess properly. Lay it out for me."

I poured us both a second mug of coffee and offered her one. "Remember about a month ago I caught a missing person's case? One that went absolutely nowhere?"

"Yes."

"What I didn't tell you at the time was that I was requested to take the case."

"Really. By whom?"

"Jeff McKeen."

"The Under-sheriff." Sara shrugged. "Alright. Still not setting off any bells. Been done before on other cases. Did he give a reason for wanting you?"

"If I remember correctly, he said that the original team assigned to it felt the trail was cold. He wanted a second opinion."

Sara jerked in surprise. "That's it?"

"Pretty much."

"Wow." She frowned. "Not normal. He's usually all about the bottom line. Cutting your losses and all that." Her frown deepened. "Okay. Go on."

"About two weeks ago, I caught a case that was a little on the nasty side."

"Nothing strange about that," she replied dryly. "Specifically?"

"Specifically, we were sent a dvd of a gang rape that been posted to the internet via a college news site. One that we suspect of taking place in Las Vegas."

"The case that I got called in on?"

"Yes. Archie had said that it was filtered through so many bounce points it was impossible to pinpoint exactly where it had come from and who had posted it but a little ground work helped us pinpoint the crime scene. He was able to pull up a few details from the room in the video and its inhabitants / participants."

"Like what?"

"Las Vegas phone directories sitting on a desk that had seen better days. A reflection through a window that gave us the partial name of the condemned building that was used for the crime. The place had been set up like a hospital operating room complete with linens stamped with the name of one of the local hospitals. Her attackers were masked and gloved like surgeons. They wore identical scrubs that we traced to a local uniform supply store."

"Sloppy…or very clever?"

"In my opinion, the latter."

"Struck you as odd, right? I mean, if someone knows their way around a computer well enough they can cover their tracks to keep us going in circles indefinitely. Why then would you leave recognizable clues in a video and then post it to the net?"

"My question exactly, though it took me a while to ask it. You know as well as I do that the lab has been swamped lately. I hadn't been able to devote steady time on the file. It wasn't until we got to the scene that it struck me that it was a little too easy to follow up on Archie's findings."

"Archie got a lot, didn't he?" She took a sip from her mug as she looked over some of his notes.

"Yes, more than enough to help us find the building and make some important inquiries. I'd hoped that it would be enough to help put this case to rest but I was proved wrong. We managed to grab some shoe prints and some fibers but nothing that gave us a direct link to any suspects."

"No blood?"

"No."

"No DNA?"

"No. And no body. Just a gurney and a second copy of the video to let us know that we found the right building. Everything else was spotless. All the linens had been removed and that place had been cleaned within an inch of its life. Anyway, we turned over everything we had to the Federal branch hoping they'd have better luck with pinpointing the poster and kept hitting it when we could. As far as I know the FBI is still working the origin end of things." I could see she was wondering about the connections but was willing to let me lay out my breadcrumb trail. "The internet case got cold for a couple of days but then some of the lab work came back and we had some partials that led to some people of interest."

"Planted?"

I nodded, my mood grim. "Possibly. Didn't make sense because as I said, everyone in the video wore gloves except the victim. Still, we went with the evidence."

"Which led to the interviews I helped with."

"Yes, though again, I was pushed into that sooner than I wanted to be."

"McKeen?"

"Yes. At the time it struck me odd…no, actually, it really ticked me off but I'd gone through the evidence several times over and needed some new leads. I'd hoped the interviews might shake something loose."

Sara looked at me hard, ghosts from this morning dancing in her eyes. "It did. In spades."

"Yeah. Got more than I bargained for. The only upside of this whole mess was that the killer gave me more than he bargained for too." I walked over to my briefcase and pulled out a file. "This is the file for the internet case-the gang rape. Archie worked the video and enhanced the image. It's blurry but…see for yourself."

Sara picked it up out the file and examined it closely. "This looks like the person who was in our bed this morning. Or a damn good facsimile."

"Possibly, yes. We've been working with the assumption that her name is Natalie Freisen. Twenty-six. Associate teaching assistant working towards her Masters in criminal psychology."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How on earth did you manage to identify her as Natalie Freisen? This picture's hardly enough to go on…"

"I guessed," I told her, trying to keep a straight face.

"You _guessed_?" Sensing she was being put on she growled. "I am so not in the mood for your strange sense of humor. Spit it out, Gil."

I grinned at her all the same. "Okay, call it an educated guess if that makes you feel better, though it was more a matter of luck than anything else. I was working the internet case and happened to have this one open as well and…" I passed her another file.

"Your missing person's case." She held up a clear, detailed photo from the second file and compared it to the first. "It's a good match. Very possible it's the same girl but I wouldn't swear it in court. There's just not enough detail in the first picture and the computer analysis sits at seventy-nine percent match. That's not an exact. Doesn't mean it isn't the same girl but there's room for doubt."

"My thoughts precisely but recent events have encouraged me to reassess that view."

"In what way?"

"We had a couple of partials from the crime scene that couldn't be matched so I took a chance and ran them against the ones we'd taken from Natalie's apartment. Several markers in common on each of the prints. Again, not enough conclusively but definitely another piece of the puzzle. The reports came back two shifts ago."

"And you think that's what led to this morning's wake up call? Pretty elaborate set up with only two days of prep time."

"Four if someone at the lab was in on this." I pulled out a chair and sat down at the table again. "Same duration of time that we used for interviews. Somewhere in there lies the trigger." We were quiet for a moment, just processing and then I said, "As you know, we were working under the assumption that despite the fact that we've yet to turn up a body, Natalie Freisen-"

Sara stayed where she was, shaking a finger at me. "Wait, technically she's still just the 'victim' in the video so you're getting ahead of yourself."

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"Payback's a bitch, Gil."

"Fine. The _victim_ had been brutally attacked, stabbed and left to die wherever that video had been taken. It was quite a surprise to see her body in our bed this morning."

"Providing it's the same girl, I agree. Another shock all together to learn that she'd been killed in out bedroom too," Sara finished, her brows pinched in a frown. "I didn't get an opportunity to view the video myself but I read Archie's report when you pulled me in. He said the camera was left running until the tape ran out. He concluded that Natalie had _probably_ died on scene but we don't have any conclusive proof that she did if you guys didn't recover a body."

"I saw the tape, Sara. I concurred with Archie's opinion myself. It would have been practically impossible for that young woman to survive what she had in the attack. Unless…"

"Unless it was staged," Sara said with a sickly, humorless grin. "Okay, staged. For whose benefit?"

I placed my cup on the table very gently, hardly making a sound. "That, my love, is a very good question."


	9. Chapter 9

Follow the Leader

Part IX

I didn't sleep very well that night. I knew I wouldn't.

I'd gotten through the events of the previous days on sheer will alone; my mind wrapped in some sort of fuzzy protective layering that let me function without really feeling or taking in the events around me. Now, many hours later, that insulation against what I'd gone through was wearing thin. The acute memory I'd been alternately cursed and blessed with through my life was once again operating at full force and I didn't have the emotional exhaustion of the previous night to force it to rest. Every time I relaxed enough to drift off to sleep, my brain walked me through those horrible minutes I'd waited in the hallway anxiously debating whether or not to enter my bedroom the other morning. A second by second replay of the call I'd made for back-up, the fear and distress I'd felt as I cleared the room and the final moment of realizing that there was nothing I could do to help 'Gil'. The image of his body, bloody and damaged beyond recognition, forced me from that dream state twice in heart-pounding fear, before I finally gave up on the notion of sleeping all together and crept from the bed. The only silver lining in the whole matter is that I hadn't woken up screaming and that Gil slept on, totally unaware of my inner turmoil.

I slipped silently into a chair; one leg bent to hug against my chest, my mind searching for a semblance of inner peace but the minute I closed my eyes I knew I had to search elsewhere. There was no escape to be had inside me. Weary as I was I let my gaze drift back to Gil. I watched him sleep; my heart heavy with anxiety, my gaze focused on the rise and fall of his chest…the shape of his mouth and nose…the brush of his lashes against the pale of his cheeks. Some of the anxiety seeped away as my senses became wrapped up in the simple study. Some part of me realized I was trying to memorize his features; his expressions; the evidence of his existence. The reality of his breathing battled the nightmare of his 'death' and I soaked it all in, absorbing every detail, every minor movement until I was able to let go of the tension and set my mind free to wander where it wanted to go. Without conscious effort, I started replaying the conversation Gil and I had had about his resignation letter and the connections between his cases.

The girl's face haunted me. Not the usual sort of throbbing image I was used to dealing with relating to unsolved cases…more throbbing…begging for attention. I'd seen her somewhere before…but where? Where? I didn't think it was in another file. For some reason I had the feeling wherever I'd seen her wasn't exactly work-related. No. No, it had been somewhere more social. And recently too, but I didn't remember being introduced to her. Her name would have triggered some kind of response in my brain, wouldn't it? No. It was her face that had grabbed me originally; her file picture because I'd seen that expression before. Somewhere. I think I remember her being dressed up but Gil and I hadn't been anyplace formal recently so that didn't fit. We'd had the gang over a couple of weeks ago for a barbeque but that grouping was comprised of people from our shift and their significant others so that didn't fit either. Where the hell had I seen her?

I started retracing my steps. Where might I have seen her? I'd been to work, of course. The dog sitters'. The grocery store. The mall. The deli down the street. Where else had I been recently?

I burrowed deeper in my tucked position. Wait, no, this would have been a few weeks ago, right? The girl's been missing for a while now. Only to show up dead in my bedroom. Okay, wait. That train of thought isn't going to help anything and it's not likely I saw her since McKeen gave Gil the file. I shook my head irritably, more than certain now that I had seen her before but frustrated that I couldn't place her.

Gil mumbled something and rolled onto his side, bunching his pillow tighter under his neck. The sudden shift in position drew my attention back to his form. He was restless too. The shadow of movement behind his eyelids told me he dreamed vividly; the frown on his face told me those dreams were not pleasant.

I tried to recapture my focus. Where was I? Oh. Right. McKeen had given Gil the file. Asked him to look into it. Specifically wanted Gil. Why? To be thorough? To be…oh my god.

The connection I'd been so desperate to make finally clicked and I growled angrily under my breath. Yes, the anger was back, but this time it was primarily self-directed. There was a possibility that all of this could have been avoided if I'd done my job right. Self disgust had the bile rising in my throat again and it was all I could do to beat it back.

"You're staring at me again." Gil's voice though quiet and rough with sleep gave me a start.

"Sorry. I tried not to wake you." My voice sounded as coarse as his.

He tossed the covers back and sat up on the edge of the bed. "Don't be." A shudder snaked across his skin confirming the fact that his dreams had been every bit as unpleasant as I'd imagined them. "Meditating?"

"No. Processing."

"I see. Anything in particular."

I nodded. "Just trying to sort out fact from fiction."

He reached for his watch and checked the time. "A little heavy at this late hour, Sar."

"I know but I'm not sure I had much in the way of choice."

He stared at me hard for a moment and then nodded decisively. "I know that look. Might as well spill it, Sar. Neither one of us will get any rest until you do."

I wasn't awake enough to be diplomatic so I just dove right in. "There is the distinct possibility that I'm at fault for the scene I walked in on the other morning."

Gil snorted. "Yeah? And I'm the Queen of England."

His tone ruffled my fur. "This isn't funny, _Your Majesty_!"

He raised an eyebrow at my brisk tone. "I know, but saying that you're responsible in any way for it _is_."

"You might want to let me finish before you make a statement like that, laughing boy."

He rolled his eyes at me before flopping back to the mattress. "Fine. I'm patient. Let's hear it."

Through gritted teeth I said, "I thought I was up to speed on your case before I went into interviews but looking back on it now, I realize that I wasn't."

He turned his head in my direction. "I really…_really_ find that hard to believe."

"Why?"

He ignored my question and asked instead, "Did you read the file?"

"Yes."

"Look through the evidence log?"

"Yes."

"Read Archie's report?"

"You know I did. I told you that this afternoon."

"Then you were as prepared for those interviews as anyone could expect."

I huffed out a breath and got up to pace. "No, I wasn't."

He sat up again. "And why do you say that?"

"Because I missed something dammit! I missed a connection that I know I would have seen had I paid more attention to the files."

He combed his fingers through his hair and then braced his elbows on his knees. With fingers linked beneath his chin he said, "Sara, you're not looking at this the right way. Obviously, you figured out something important and I'm thrilled but…honey, you keep saying 'files'. I hadn't linked the two files until a few days ago. Hadn't even realized that there might be a connection between them until I happened to be working them back to back and even then…well, it was a fluke that I linked them at all."

I frowned, my arms folding defensively. "I forgot about that. Okay. Maybe that does make a difference."

He shrugged. "Maybe. I won't know for sure until you tell me what got you so fired up in the first place."

"Alright. I'll have to lead you into this a bit."

"Just go where you need me to go."

"I was thinking about the two files and how you're fairly certain that they are connected but don't have enough proof to make an official link."

"Go on."

"Normally, knowing your nature, you would have dismissed the possibility…no, that's not quite right…um…you would have ignored the possible connection temporarily until you came across hard evidence that linked the two files, right?"

"Yes, that's true but-"

I held up a hand, asking silently to be heard out. "However, between the circumstantial evidence, the corpses that were dumped in out bedroom and your instincts, you've decided to go outside the norm and look at those cases as a unit."

He nodded slowly. "Again, yes. It is unusual for me to work from this angle but something just feels…right…about it."

"Agreed. This isn't a criticism. I'm merely laying down the breadcrumb trail. "All I'm saying is that you're working this case differently…and that maybe that difference took someone by surprise. That maybe they had counted on you working one way and are not at all happy with your sudden departure from your standard procedure."

Gil's mouth twisted. "I'm that predictable?"

"Truth?"

"Always."

"When it comes to evidence processing and scientific method, you're more anal than Ecklie when he's in his administration mode."

He winced. "Low blow."

"No. Just being honest. It's one of the reasons we're one of the top labs in the country. We don't compromise. You keep us all on our toes and we need that. You may have absolutely no concept of how to play office politics but you're a staunch defender of due process and are very exacting by anyone's standards."

"As we've found, there's little room for error in this body of work. Grey areas are often grounds for dismissal in court. We can't afford to guess."

"And yet, when you began to link these cases you did. You did exactly that. Plus…hate to tell you this but you also bent to pressure, something you rarely do. You said you weren't ready to go to interviews so soon but you went anyway, hoping for a break. Again, not something we're used to seeing you do. You're a chess player and you run your shift much the same way you play chess…always looking three moves ahead…never losing sight of the big picture."

"So if I'm following what you're saying, you think I was being set up to work one way but upset the apple cart completely, thus making myself…well, both of us…a target."

I nodded. "You said McKeen asked you to look into the file. You specifically."

"Yes."

"No reason? No guidelines?"

"No, and what I took from that was that he didn't want to influence my findings in anyway."

"Makes sense. That's the way that most of us prefer to work especially on cases in which we're re-examining data collected by other investigators. You probably didn't think much of it."

"No, not at the time though I certainly had second thoughts afterwards. So you think I was being used by McKeen?"

"I'm sure of it. The only thing I'm not sure about are his motives. Was he really hoping to find her for her sake or his own?"

"I take it you have a theory?"

"Possibly. Maybe something a little better. I've seen her before."

"Excuse me?"

"The girl. Natalie Freisen. You have too but I'm not sure you really took notice of her."

"And when was this?"

"Mayor's dinner. About three months ago." I watched as he tried to think back to that date and then shook his head, not able to place her. He'd had a lot going on that evening so it's likely he didn't remember half the people he spoke to that evening. "Try this," I suggested, leaning in closer. "She was…a late arrival. Came in after the chicken was served. Wearing a blue strapless something or other escorted by a young man that now that I think about it bore a striking resemblance to McKeen…only about twenty years younger. And speaking of McKeen, I'd have to say that not only was he surprised at their entrance but also a little pissed off about it too."

The moment Gil made the connection his eyes flew sharply to mine. "Wait. I've got it now. That was the night that the under-sheriff kept downing whiskey sours at the head table, right? He barely said a word after they arrived. Very sullen and edgy." There was another head shake, followed quickly by a rueful grin. "How in the hell do you do it? I would never have recalled that on my own. Not in a million years. The meeting was far too brief and I doubt I would have been able to remember it at all if you hadn't led me to it. Your memory just…astounds me."

I waved off his comment, embarrassed by his praise. "Yeah, once in a while it proves it can do more for me than give me nightmares. But in this case, it's not quite as miraculous as you seem to think. I saw her a second time in the bathroom later on that evening and that time she made a deeper impression."

"Did you speak to her?"

I sighed. "No, she was too busy crying."

"Do you know why?"

"No. When she saw me she did a quick repair job on her make-up and bolted. Things like that are always happening at events like those so I didn't think much of it at the time."

"Really?"

"Yes. There's always someone crying in the restroom over something stupid. I would have asked if there was anything I could do for her but she was gone too quickly. Like I said, didn't really bother me at the time. Now, however, I'm very curious about what was going on that night."

"Yes, I am too. Do you know who her escort was?"

I shook my head. "Not for certain but I have a guess. McKeen's son?"

"You got it. He's attended a number of those dinners since his dad became the under-sheriff."

"Why? Is he in law enforcement too?"

"No. His type doesn't like to get his hands dirty. He's in politics. Currently, he's an alderman. Has his eye on the mayor's chair in the next election three years down the road."

"How do you know so much about him?"

"His father is awfully proud of his only son and I've had to sit through many dinners with him as the topic of after chicken conversation. Jeff McKeen, Jr or JR as he's known in most circles is considered a pretty hot up and comer."

A chill raced up my spine. "I don't know about you but I get nervous when people start mixing politics, families, sex and murder together. Doesn't sit well at all with me."

"I know what you mean." He rolled his shoulders back and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Are you – do you think you'll get any more sleep tonight."

"Not a chance."

"Me either. Why don't we head into the lab…do a little research?"

"I was hoping you'd say that but I thought you didn't want anyone thinking you were still working on this case."

He grimaced. "Yes, you're right. It would defeat the purpose of resigning, wouldn't it?"

"A little."

"Well, you still work there and I haven't cleaned out my desk yet. We'll let that stand as the excuse. I drove you into work because I'm still edgy about everything that has happened and I needed to gather my essentials from my office."

I was already on my feet. "That works for me. Are we still keeping this place private?"

He was pulling on a sweater and grabbing his keys when he answered me. "The lodge? Yes. Just tell anyone who asks that we're staying with a friend and we're trying to keep it private to avoid any more…unpleasantness."

"As a euphemism for murder, 'unpleasantness' really sucks, Gil."

"Sara, when it comes to murder, I don't know that there are any good euphemisms."


	10. Chapter 10

_Follow the Leader_

Part X

Forty minutes later, we were standing in the doorway of Gil's office, trying to figure out how to pack it up, totally overwhelmed by the scope of it. There was so much history here, so many memories, that it actually hurt to think about it let alone start.

"Maybe it's just too soon, Gil" I said rubbing his shoulder supportively. "I'm sure no one thought we'd be able to move this quickly anyway."

"I'll be okay, Sara. You go do what you need to do. I'll get through this somehow."

I wanted to protest but my instincts thought better of it. It seemed to me that he really needed some space to come to grips with the huge change in his circumstances so it was better that I just let him try to work through a little of this on his own.

"Okay Gil, whatever you say. Call if you need me." I buzzed his cheek softly and made my way down to my office.

A few months ago, a position had opened up through the administrative branch of the lab and I decided to accept it when it was offered to me. I still did active field, lab and trial investigations but more as a floater, than a dedicated CSI. I stepped in to help with things like interviews and backlogs in lab work when needed but usually not in a 'primary' capacity. My other duties prevented me from taking a lead role.

Forensic science had become quite a popular venue of study for many young people looking to start careers but too many of them failed to understand just how exacting and demanding a profession it could be. Burnout and psychological issues were an increasing problem behind the constant staff turnovers we were facing and the lab directors took some initiatives to counteract those conditions. My job was to mentor newcomers to our lab and put them through their paces thus making sure that the job suited them and much as they suited our lab. I also designed training labs for our personnel to instruct them on new equipment and techniques so that our staff was current with the latest processes and methods available to them.

The upside of the situation was that I got a nice little increase in pay and my own little hole in the wall office, but downside was that basically I was handling two job titles instead of the just the one I had previously. Mind you I wasn't complaining. I think I did more bitching about the staff turnovers and lack of continuity between shifts than any ten other people so my new position meant that I stopped being part of the problem and was working hard to be part of the solution. Ecklie was very vocal about his happiness on that point. It also eased the marriage issue a bit. With both Gil and I being supervisors, there were no further mitigating circumstances when we worked cases together.

I pulled out my keys and unlocked my door, not really paying attention to the process. An interesting thought had occurred to me on the drive in to the lab. If I hadn't accepted this new position as 'floater' I might never have been involved in Grissom's case so I too had inadvertently stepped out of my normal methods of procedure and upset the proverbial apple cart. I shook my head. It was all moot now. Time to get busy figuring out what the hell it was that we were involved in.

* * *

When I think about it, it was something quite natural for me to do. I sat down at my desk, powered up my computer and logged in. I plugged the name, 'Natalie Freisen', into the search bar and then clicked the return key. I was relatively certain someone else down the line had done the same thing previously but I wanted to get a fresh perspective. It was the way I worked all of my cases, especially here in Vegas. Almost everyone who lived here was working the scene or had some connection to the casinos and attractions. I'd found a surprising amount of information that way which often helped give me a tighter perspective on a case and usually performed this search before I did any specific searches through our criminalistics data base.

When the matches began to scroll down the screen, I skimmed them, dismissing the first page entirely and jumping to the next. About five names down, my eyes stopped, squinted and then re-read the mini description listed on the match list. When I realized what I was reading, I double clicked and the computer took me to the linked webpage. "Oh my god."

I hit the print button and stood to grab them from my printer. "Come on…come on…" I urged the machine, waiting for it to spit out the information I needed and then was off and running to Gil's office.

I didn't knock. I know I should have but I was too wrapped up in what I'd found that I didn't think of it. "Gil, you're not going to believe this…" My words petered off and I stood framed in the doorway unable to say anything else.

"Sara, I hope you'll excuse us for a couple minutes more. Gil and I were just discussing a…matter of some urgency." Under-sheriff McKeen smiled at me in that greasy way of his, making sure I knew it was more of an order than a request.

"Of course, Jeff," I answered, after getting a subtle nod from Gil. "I'm sorry for intruding. I didn't think."

"One of the interesting quirks of being married and working in the same environment, I'm sure," he replied, looking over at my husband in a very peculiar way.

Despite the fact that I usually had little trouble separating my personal life from my professional one, I didn't bother to defend myself. A quick glance at Gil told me he would prefer that I leave so I nodded. "Yes, of course," was all I said. "Let me know when you're finished, Gil. I'll be in Trace." Actually, I was going to snoop around a bit first to see if anyone knew what the hell was going on, but they didn't need to know that.

"Thanks, Sara," Gil replied tonelessly, walking me out. The minute I crossed the threshold the door clicked soundly into place.

I stared at it for a moment, my curiosity almost convincing me to come up with an excuse to re-enter the office in hopes of learning what they were talking about but I managed to resist. Instead, I decided to go to the one place where, as long as it was inhabited by creatures of the human variety, I'd be able to catch up on the goings on while I'd been away.

When I entered the break room a few minutes later I was surprised to see both Catherine and Greg there and since they stopped talking the minutes they saw me I knew I had to have been the subject of their chat.

"Sara! You're here. Grissom too?" This greeting was from Greg, a strange mix of surprise and welcome in his demeanor.

"Yeah, but he's with the under sheriff right now. Very hush hush. I wasn't invited." I snagged a chair, forgetting the coffee for the time being in leiu of getting some information. "Do either of you know what that's about?"

A look passed between them and then Greg looked away. It seemed Gil and I didn't have the monopoly on wordless conversations. When Catherine met my eyes it was easy to see that she was very guarded. "Yes," she said simply, "actually I do, but I'm not at liberty to discuss the matter with you at this point. Mind you, I don't know how much difference it's going to make. I'm sure Gil will fill you in completely when he's through with McKeen."

I frowned, my eyes narrowing. "And yet Greg knows?"

She shook her blonde head. "No. Well, he knows that the under sheriff wanted to speak with Grissom because McKeen asked us if we knew where you guys were staying but that's all he knows. I know a few more of the details but I was told those in strictest confidence." Her expression and body language suggested that she was not at all comfortable with the position she had found herself in when she'd arrived at the lab that evening.

I sighed. "I was afraid that decision was going to come back and bite us, but Gil was insistent that we find a place that was…um…private until we had a better understanding of what was going on."

Both Catherine and Greg looked at me sharply but Catherine the one who voiced her thoughts. "That's not exactly standard operating procedure."

Despite the fact the Gil and I had had a debate over this very thing, I took exception to the censure in her tone. "Yeah, well, procedure seems to fly right out the window when people's lives and families are threatened, now doesn't it Catherine? A point which I'm sure you understand from personal experience."

The dig didn't miss its mark. Catherine had broken her share of rules when she felt the situation called for it, far more than Gil and I ever had. When she spoke again, it was without the domineering edge. "Fine. Let's ignore all of the official bullshit for the moment and get real here. What if something had happened to you? How would we have known?"

I backed down too. "It wasn't like we were totally isolated, Catherine, or for that matter, really far away at all. I guarantee that our safety was of prime concern to Gil and in fact it was the reason he suggested doing this at all."

"Suggested?" Greg asked sardonically, leaning in.

I inclined my head in a rueful gesture. "'Suggested' might be a little weak as a term. Anyway, we could have been reached easily by phone. Actually, we were both surprised that no one tried." When another look passed between my table companions, I slammed my hand down on the table sharply. "Okay, that's it. I need to know what's going on here and I need to know now. Spill it."

"McKeen told us he tried to reach you repeatedly. Multiple attempts in the last couple of days." At Catherine's warning glare, Greg snorted. "That part wasn't in confidence, Cat. Half the night crew was in the lab when he was making his inquiries."

"That's not what has me worried at the moment, Greg. Unless you're trying to get both of asses in a sling you'd better lower your voice and use a little discretion."

"He didn't call," I told them, offering my phone and clicking up the call history as proof. "Like I said, no one called. We expected Jim or you to check in with an update or something but…what?"

Catherine let out an angry breath; her index finger striking a hard tattoo against the surface of the table. "Crap. I have such a headache," she said, dropping her head back and trying to ease the tension on her neck. "I always get headaches when I realize I'm being played." She looked around, noting our lack of privacy. "Alright. This is so not the place for this discussion."

"My office? Yours?" I offered without hesitation.

"No. Not here. Listen, we're all off shift in a couple of hours. We'll meet at the deli-Richmond's- four streets over. I have a few questions of my own that I'd like answered."

"Okay, Cat. I'll let Gil know. I need to check in with Trace but after that I'm all yours. About 8:30?"

"Yes."

"We'll be there."

* * *

David Hodges yawned for what must have been the fourth time in a row. "Late night, Dave?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets, debating whether or not to tell me the truth. "Yes," he finally said, "I was watching a bid item on E-bay. It went long."

"Did you win it?"

"Of course. But I'm paying a heavy price for it physically right now."

"So I gathered. Okay, look, last one I need is in the Faihr file. We update that one and we're done." I shifted papers and made a note in the margin. "Hmmm. Maria Kovacs was working that one. Did her collection techniques check out this time?"

"More or less," Hodges replied after looking at his notes. "Not quite up to your or my standards but quite a step up from her last case submissions."

"Good," I said, swallowing a yawn of my own. "I'm hoping she'll work out after all the time you've been spending on her training. She's a bit sloppy but we can curb that with careful management. She's got a good eye for the unusual and she can work with a team."

"A rare combination indeed," he concurred, grinning at me.

When he continued to stare I challenged him with a, "What?"

"Pay up."

"Excuse me?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"Twenty dollars, Sara. You owe me. And you don't forget anything," he 'reminded' me as I fished the cash from my pocket and settled my debt. "Should have known better that to bet against me, Sara. I have a good eye for this sort of thing."

"What you have, David, is a good case of the hots for our Maria Kovacs," I told him roundly. "Be careful you don't get your…wick…burned in the process of finding out if she returns your interest. Maria's a force to be reckoned with." I swiveled around in my chair and leaned back. "You know, it's generally accepted that I have an eye for this stuff as well but I'm willing to accede that in this case I was mistaken. Maria might make it through her trial after all." I'd been ready to give Kovacs the boot a week ago for her substandard work practices but David had championed her. I agreed to hold off for one more week and David had volunteered to supervise her work closely during that allowed time. It seemed to have paid off. "I guess she's finally found her niche."

David was about to comment when his attention was drawn to the doorway. "Grissom! Good to see that the news of your probable demise turned out to be inaccurate in the extreme."

I could see that Gil was in no mood for levity but he controlled himself enough to answer Hodges politely. "Thank-you, David. It's good to know I would have been missed. Are you finished here, Sara? I'm ready to go."

"Um, yeah. We're done, right David?"

Hodges spun around in his chair to grab the file that we'd been going over. "Just sign on the line and you're good to go."

"Evaluation reports," I told Gil, before signing and slipping off my chair. "Just let me get these filed and we're all set. Thanks, David."

"Anytime," he called after me and then went back to his own work.

Gil followed me to my office; something that wasn't routine for him because usually he was the one finishing up a file or closing a call when it was time to head home. He even slipped inside and closed the door. I eyed him curiously, trying gauge his mood. He was hovering over me, almost protectively and I have to admit that it made me feel a little crowded. "Honey? Have a seat. I'll just be a minute." He thought about my suggestion for a moment and then stalked to a visitor's chair and dropped heavily into it. It took me a second but I finally figured out what was wrong. He was really, really mad. His body was tight and twisted with temper. The high points on his cheek were singed angry with red. I dropped the files on my desk and then leaned forward resting my weight on my hands. "Gil? Do you want to talk now or later?" I asked him when the silence became too harsh.

He gave me a short, negative flick of his head and sank back into his own thoughts.

I let him stew a bit, hoping it would calm him enough to let him work through his mad but when I finished straightening up my desk I could see that he'd had little success doing that. I walked over to his chair quietly and gently grasped his wrist in mine. His pulse was racing. "You need to breath, Gil. I'm sure whatever it is we can work through it. Just breathe, honey. You're scaring me a little here."

He flipped his hand so that it gripped mine and pulled me gently across his lap. He tucked my head under his chin and I wrapped my body around his. We stayed that way until his heartbeat settled and his arms loosened. When he spoke his voice sounded strained in the quiet of the room. "McKeen has informed me in no uncertain terms that he refuses to accept my resignation until my current caseload is completed to his satisfaction."

I choked on a laugh. "Well, I guess that's just too bad for him, now isn't it?" When I didn't get a response, I pulled away far enough to see his face. "Isn't it?" I asked again, expecting a positive response.

"No."

"No? Come on, Gil. He can't stop you from quitting. It's just not in his power."

"Actually, you're right. He can't."

"I sense a 'but' coming on, Gil."

He grunted, trying to control his temper. "Oh, it's there. He can't keep me from quitting but he can and will hold me to a mandatory two week's notice clause in my contract with the lab. He can put pressure on certain parties with regard to two of the grant projects I'm working on and encourage them to with-hold funding until I'm set up in a different lab. He can and will make my life a living hell should I try to collect any of my benefits and may even screw with my pension if I don't go along with his game plan."

"That's-That's extortion," I exclaimed breathlessly.

"Yes."

"I hope you told him to go screw himself!"

"Actually, my version translated roughly into me sticking his head up his ass and throwing him bodily from the top of the nearest high-rise, but yes, that was the gist of it."

I grinned evilly. "Not very PC, Gil."

"When have I ever been that?"

"We're going to have to work on your people skills." I sighed and shrugged. "So, it's done. He threatened, you refused. We're out of here, right?"

"No."

"Excuse me? Did you just say 'no'?"

"He played another card, Sar."

"What?!" When Gil looked away, I bristled with outrage. "You mean me, don't you? He threatened me, somehow. Surely he didn't think he could get away with this! He had to have known you would tell me and we would fight him on this right? Right?"

"I think he was counting on me telling you. Everything. Word for word." His jaw was set in a furious scowl.

"Well, I'm not going to go down without a fight. Come on, we'll go to Ecklie. Put him in the middle of this immediately." Again there was silence. "Dammit, Gil, say something." When he still refused to answer I shifted with every intention of getting up off his lap. "Fine. I'll talk to him myself. Let me go, Gil. I need to go do a little ass-kicking of my own."

But Gil didn't release me. In fact he held on tighter. "Sara-it doesn't matter."

"Like hell-"

"Sara, it's done. I gave in."

"You what?! What in the hell is wrong with you?! You had no right to do that without consulting me. None at all. I don't need you fighting my battles, Gil. You can just march right back in there and 'un-do' it because there is no damn way I'm staying on at this lab another second after what he just tried to pull."

Gil clasped my face between his palms, the simple action stopping my tirade in mid-stride, and leaned in close. "Shhhh. Sara…please….listen to me. This isn't about me speaking for you or giving in without a thought to your feelings. All that is secondary. This is about the fact that I just held a meeting with a man who possessed the coldest eyes I've ever seen, and believe me, that's saying something. Eyes that belonged to a man who could have a pleasant conversation with you one minute and drive a bullet into your skull the next. There's something really twisted going on here and until I know-sorry, until we know how deep it goes, we're going to play by his rules. I thought quitting would give us the out we needed. Now…we're going to have to finish this, Sara. We're in it too deep to back out. Okay?"

"You think it's that bad?"

"Yes, and getting worse by the second."

"Shit."

"Yeah."


	11. Chapter 11

Follow the Leader

Part XI

When Gil and I entered the deli, Catherine and Greg had already picked up an order each and grabbed a table. We followed suit and soon we were all seated in the corner table as far from the entrance of the deli that we could manage.

"You're late," Catherine spit out around a bite of bagel. "McKeen give you a rough time?"

Grissom grunted, snagging an apple slice before spreading a little butter on his bran muffin. "You don't know the half of it. Sorry to say, Catherine, but you might have to wait a while longer to get your hands on my office."

She leaned back, not looking a bit surprised. "How'd he convince you to stay?"

"A little blackmail, a little extortion. Suffice it to say, it made me curious enough to relent for the time being until I can figure out what's going on." Finished with his task, he looked at the blonde woman directly. "And what is going on, Catherine?"

She'd just taken another bite of her bagel so she held up a finger while she chewed and swallowed. "You'll have to wait for that answer just a little while longer until…oh, no, there he is now." She raised a hand to someone at the door and we turned to see Jim Brass approaching with a weary step.

"Ah, the missing Grissoms. How nice of you to join us for breakfast."

I smiled coolly at Brass, not letting his irritation phase me a bit after what Gil had told me about McKeen. "Be nice or I won't share my fruit cup, Jim, and I got the last one with cherries."

He snagged an empty chair from a nearby table and turned it about to straddle it, sitting down to my right. "Hey, no need to get snippy. I usually have to duke it out with Nick for the cherries. I'll behave. Oh right…speaking of Nick…where is the rest of our merry band?"

Greg answered that. "Nick's at that army retreat, remember? He needed to fill his education credit and decided to take in that ballistics course in the same go."

"Right. Forgot about that. You know he wanted me to sign up for that damn thing as well?" Jim sighed, his face going puppy. "Little extreme for me at my age."

I grinned. "He asked me too. Said I might have a chance to parachute but…I had too much work and too many greenies set loose on lab property. Maybe next time. I know he roped Warrick in. Did he ask you, Greg?"

"Yeah, but I had court. Besides, with Nick and Warrick gone you guys needed someone to anchor the shift. Couldn't leave you all high and dry."

My husband snorted into his coffee, but the rest of us rewarded his little quip with a laugh and for a moment, in that tiny deli, it felt like nothing was wrong and everything was business as usual. Unfortunately, the levity faded as quickly as it had been born. I looked around noting the return of tension grimly.

"Okay," I said, "now that the small talk is over what say we have a little discussion about what's been happening at the lab."

"Right. I'll start," Brass said, shifting slightly in his chair and readjusting his tie. "Besides, the obvious, I knew something was off about that mess at your house from the minute I stepped into your bedroom. It had the stench of 'set-up' all over it-actually, no, worse- it smelled like a set up gone bad."

"What do you mean?" Gil asked.

"It was a hodge-podge of contradictions," Jim said, "and my defense mechanisms were firing on both barrels." He placed a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently as if in apology. "Look, I didn't take a lot of time to think through the whys and hows when I walked in and saw Sara covered in blood.; I just reacted. My training kicked in and it was all just automatic for me-like it would be for any other experienced officer walking into that mess but with one main difference."

"And what was that?" Catherine asked, her brow pleated.

"I knew Sara hadn't shot Grissom. I knew it beyond a doubt. I also knew that there was no way in hell that Grissom would have messed around behind Sara's back and because I knew all of that my first instinct was to protect her. I did everything by the book…in fact, I probably over did it in some ways to make sure everything was as air tight as possible but I wanted to be certain I had her back, you know?"

I leaned into him and brushed his cheek in thanks, something I hadn't been in the right mind to do before now and slid my fruit cup his way. He paused in his narrative, clearing his throat gruffly. There was a tinge of red on his cheek when he continued but I knew he was touched by my gesture.

Catherine looked down into her coffee mug for a moment and I could see her trying to gather words. When she looked back at Jim, my heart went out to her. "Yeah, didn't seem that way at first but I hope if I'm ever in a spot like that I'm lucky enough to have your support too." It was both an apology and an olive branch and Jim accepted it with a brief smile of thanks.

"Yeah, well, afterwards, when I had a chance to think about it I became more and more convinced that I wasn't supposed to have been the one to answer that call." He rolled his shoulders trying to lighten some of the fatigue crowding his body.

"I think I see where you're going with this." She addressed the rest of the table. "None of us," and here she indicated herself, Brass and Greg, "should have been called to that scene, right Jim?"

He nodded. "Right."

"It was just circumstance that we'd been called out to another scene…had finished up quickly and were en route back to the lab. When the summons went out and I recognized the address and people involved, there was no thought to the decision to head straight over. We were the first officers to arrive on scene…purely by luck and certainly not by design."

"Exactly," Brass agreed, popping the plastic lid on the fruit cup and digging out a cherry with his spoon.

"In other words, should another detective or team arrived first on the scene, things might have played out quite a bit differently." Greg's teeth snapped down on a piece of bacon with pure temper.

I folded my arms with a shudder, totally uncomfortable with that probability. "Yeah, um, there's a good chance I would have checked out completely," I stated honestly, trying to sound witty but very aware that my attempt fell short. "The only thing that kept me grounded at all was knowing, on some level, that I could trust you guys to catch me if I let go. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there. I wasn't capable of thinking of practicalities like where my weapon was and…" I let my voice drift off, knowing that they understood what I was getting at without going through the whole event again. It was still a little too raw to discuss so casually in the bright morning sun of Las Vegas.

Brass spread his hands wide. "Alright, so to play this out the other way, there was enough circumstantial evidence in that room to have Sara hauled in for questioning at the very least. The woman was in bed with Sara's husband…or the facsimile of…Sara's gun was missing…when we found it, it looked as though it had been hidden…one bullet fired, buried in the fake corpse of her husband…and she was covered in blood. I mean, it wouldn't have taken long for them to figure out that one of the 'copses' in the bed was a fake but the damage would have been done. Sara would have been removed, forcibly if that had been necessary, from the scene, bloody clothes and all and would have been held until things could be sorted out sufficiently to satisfy the department's internal affairs commission."

Gil leaned back on the corner of his chair arm. "And should that have happened, my focus would have been divided, if not eclipsed, by Sara's issues and certainly not fully focused on my caseload. My case file progress would have either slowed to a complete halt or would have been passed off to other investigators entirely."

I blinked, suddenly caught by a thought. "Gil…yes…I think that's exactly what would have happened. Your cases would have been passed off…but in the end, your name would still been connected with being the primary on those cases. If there was any negative fall-out on those files, you would have been the person blamed. But just like I was saying last night, things aren't going the way they should be. Not only was I not arrested, but you actually resigned…and had that followed through-"

"Someone else would have had to have taken over those cases and practically start from scratch once more. While that would have bought our killer some time, it wouldn't have necessarily been the outcome he wanted." Gil returned his attention to the others who had been following out conversation but probably not aware of the subtext lining our words. "Sara and I were talking about this very thing before we came into the lab this morning. While there are certain procedures and protocols that every investigator covers, each investigator develops his or her own style when working a case. Some people think that that is not the way it should be, but know from experience that while most cases are solved by following the laws of science and evidence exactly, some would never be solved without individual insights and creativity of thought. Sara's pointed out that both of us have deviated from our norms of investigating and it looks like that pattern is continuing the deeper we look into this matter."

"So, if someone else had gotten the call and went with it the lab would be spinning in more directions than it already is." Greg shook his head at the thought and I cringed. I'd known something was off but until this minute I'd had nothing really concrete to back it up. Now…well, I was a lot more certain of my hunch than I had been previously.

I jumped back into the discussion with, "But you did get the call. And it looks like someone's scrambling to control the fall-out."

"Right. Like I was saying, after I thought about it a bit, I realized that though Catherine, Greg and I had to hand the scene off to dayshift, we were still the first to view the scene. Not to mention the fact that because we had a vested interest in the people involved, we stayed on to supervise." Jim did a quick double check to see if anyone outside of our group was listening too closely. "I have a feeling that if we hadn't…things would have gone missing a lot sooner than they actually did."

Greg sat up, all attention now. "What? Wait! Stuff's gone missing. Like evidence 'stuff'?"

"Yeah." The captain loosened his tie further and when the knot gave pulled it off his shoulders completely.

"What exactly?" Grissom asked, growling and I placed a hand over his to soothe his anger.

Catherine fielded that one. "The bullet, shell casing, Sara's weapon and two cards with distorted fingerprint samples that we were hoping Mandy could do something with to give us a place to start looking for a suspect."

I smiled bitterly. "Wonderful. That's par for the course isn't it? Any idea what happened to said items?"

"Not conclusively, no, but I do know who reported them missing."

"McKeen." Grissom's comment wasn't a guess in any context.

"Yep. He was also the last person to check into the evidence vault before I came on shift."

I scraped my hair back from my face. "McKeen again?! I don't like this."

Catherine snorted loudly. "No one likes this. McKeen has always been a bit of a jerk to work with…"

I rolled my eyes. "No. No, you don't understand what I mean."

"It's all a bit obvious, isn't it Sar?" Grissom asked quietly.

"Yes! Yes, it is. He's not just involved in this…we're practically tripping over him every time we turn around. UGGGGHHHH. It's starting to really get to me."

"When did the evidence go missing?" Greg asked.

"Same day as the murder," Brass told him. "I need coffee. I've been going non-stop." He excused himself to grab something from the service counter and once again, Catherine took over the narrative.

"Okay, well, on my part, I wasn't as surprised as the rest of the lab that you'd tendered your resignation because, hey, I was there when you two…um…discussed it."

Gil shot a grin at me. "Catherine the diplomat."

She nipped an apple slice off Gil's plate. "We all have our talents. However, back to what I was saying, the resignation didn't surprise me. The sight of the under-sheriff waiting for me in my office did."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"Sara, I guarantee that I am not. At first I figured he wanted to touch base. I mean, the discovery of that victim in your house and the fall-out had serious implication for the lab and specifically for me but that wasn't precisely the reason he wanted to chat."

"What did that slimy bastard want with you?"

"Greg…I'm not exactly sure on that point. I was treated to a lecture on the precarious position of the lab and it's reputation, censure on the sloppy way the evidence was collected and then went missing all together-which by the way was the first I'd heard of it-and a demand to release the location of your whereabouts against a threat of disciplinary action."

"He went that far?"

"Yes. He also said, in no uncertain terms that I was to consider myself 'acting' supervisor in your absence but not to get comfortable in the position as it would be only temporary until you returned."

Greg laid a hand on her arm. "You didn't tell me anything about this, Cat."

There was a hint of burnished pride in the shadows of her eyes when she answered Greg. "No, I didn't for the very reason I just stated. I don't know exactly why I was on the receiving end of that talk and since I hadn't spoken to Gil or Sara I decided to sit on it for a while."

"While I applaud your good sense, I have to ask. Why didn't you call us, Catherine? You or Jim? If things were going this wrong you should have let us know."

She shook her head. "No, that was the kicker, you see. McKeen gave me a direct order not to make contact with you."

"Why? If he wanted to know where we were the most logical thing would have been to have you call us…wait, actually, it would have been for him to call us. Why did he need you at all?"

"I don't know exactly but let's put it this way. McKeen didn't just inform me that there was evidence missing from the vault. He practically accused me of being the one to take it."

"Nice."

"Yeah. I was the last one to view those items before he signed in for them."

"Perfect."

"Yes. I know. He implied that I was trying to 'get rid' of anything that might incriminate you or Gil and until he was able to clear this matter up conclusively I was to stay completely hands off in this matter or face possible dismissal from the lab. I wouldn't have said anything to anyone about it at all but Jim called me a couple of hours later while I was still fuming and I felt inclined to share after hearing what he'd said."

Brass returned at that point and added, "I got a similar lecture and order except mine was more from the point of view as to why we hadn't detained Sara for questioning. There were some nasty little digs in there about cops covering for cops and the like. Turned my stomach. You have no idea how happy it made me to tell that sonuvabitch that I had no idea where you were."

"So you were ordered not to contact us as well?" Gil asked.

Brass nodded. "I went along with it because as far as I could tell, the only person who was out of sync in this whole thing was McKeen and if he didn't know where you were…well, I didn't think that was such a bad thing."

"I still don't get this. Why would he keep you from calling us if he wanted to find us so badly? Even if his motives were skewed, it would have been the fastest way to get what he wanted."

"Simple, Sara." Gil polished off his muffin in precise, jerky movements. His temper was at the boiling point again. "He wanted to get to us first. It's the only thing that makes sense. I'm sure he'd say that he had the lab's best interest at heart but after our meeting this afternoon, I'd say he was more concerned about his scapegoats going free and having to cover his tracks or start over."

Greg zeroed in on that term. "Scapegoats? For what exactly?"

"We're not entirely sure yet, Greg, but we do know that it has something to do with a case McKeen asked me to re-examine a month ago."

Catherine groaned. "This is getting weirder by the second. Is this the internet case you were working?"

"No…at least not originally…it was Natalie Freisen's missing person's case at first but there's a good possibility it's connected to the internet case."

"Ah, Gil, I don't know if this is good news or bad news but I think I might have found something that cements that link."

"What do you mean?" he asked me. "If you've found some proof to back up my suspicions then it has to be good news."

I shrugged. "It's all in how you look at it I guess. I suppose it is good news because it gives us a new direction to start digging in but…the bad news is that it also gives us another victim."


	12. Chapter 12

Follow the Leader XII

My announcement hung in the air like frozen mist…heavy and thick but wispy enough to let our grim expressions show through. Grissom was the first to recover and he did so by catching the others up. I sat silently as he proceeded to fill the others in on the details and our suspicions watching our companion's faces. I was curious to see if they thought our reasoning was sound.

After his lengthy discourse, Gil finished with, "We know McKeen has a personal interest in this case but we're not exactly sure what it is."

I nodded in agreement adding, "And that's what I was fishing for when we came to the lab this morning. While I'm not sure it explains anything just yet, I found something solid to connect those files."

"Sara, at this point I'll settle for anything we can get. Is this what you wanted to tell me earlier when I was dealing with McKeen?" Gil asked.

"Yes." I reached into my oversized briefcase/tote and pulled out the printouts I'd filed there earlier. "Here." I passed the papers to Gil and then turned to address the rest of the table. "I did a basic information search call on Natalie Freisen. I always do that sort of thing when I have to start a new case or start a review."

"Seems like a waste of time. Our police search engines are much more accurate."

"For certain information, Catherine, you're right, but there are times that a general search pops up something that's a little more obscure than criminally related materials." I swallowed a little more coffee. "What? Am I the only one who does this?" When no one answered to the contrary, I snorted. "Go figure. Well, think what you like, I know that this connection wouldn't have popped up in our standard search without a lot of digging. What Gil is currently reading is an article about Deanna Wayburn."

"Who's Deanna Wayburn?" Jim asked.

"Exactly," I said, pouncing on that question. "Natalie Freisen's sister," I told him. "Turn it over, Gil. There's a picture of Deanna on the next page."

Gil nodded, his eyes skimming the next few lines of the story and then flipped to the photo. "She looks enough like Natalie to be her twin."

"She's actually Natalie's elder sister by three years. Same mother, different father."

"You got all of that from your search?" Greg asked.

"No. I called Natalie's mother. She was more than willing to answer whatever questions I asked when I told her I was looking into her daughter's case. Parents divorced just after Natalie was born and both remarried but the girls still spent weekends and holidays together so they were close." While I was speaking, Gil placed the picture on the table and turned it around for the others to see. "High society too. Deanna chose not to work other than charity events and the like whereas Natalie was on the fast track to becoming an attorney specializing in criminal law with an acute interest in forensic sciences and criminal psychology."

"An overachiever by any stretch of the term," Jim said, his eyebrow arched. "Would have fit right in with this group here."

"Yeah. She had the brains and the money to take her anywhere she wanted to go but her mother said she was absolutely obsessed with the justice system. This photo was taken at an Arts fundraiser two years ago," I told them, pointing to a publicity shot that had been taken by a local newspaper. Deanna stood elegantly coiffed in a designer dress, laughing up at none other than Under-Sheriff Jeff McKeen and his son, the then recent university graduate, Jeff McKeen Jr.

"It says here that this was the last known sighting of Deanna Wayburn before her disappearance almost a year ago. That her body was found near Lake Mead two months later. It also says the case is still open. No leads. No suspects."

"Right," I answered Gil, leaning across him to give Greg a second copy of the article to pass to around the table. "Now, the details surrounding her death weren't released to the public but after I left your office I went back to do a little more digging, this time in the criminalistic data banks and was able to contact the sergeant who worked her case. He faxed the coroner's report to me and low and behold…" I presented the fax to Gil with something of a flourish and he nodded grimly.

"It's a blueprint of what we saw on the video."

"Or at least what we'd expect the victim of said video would have suffered. Sergeant Taubs is sending the rest of the file by messenger service as soon as he can pull everything all together. Right after we finish here, I need to get back to the lab and wait for it. I don't want that file to go 'missing' like other things have recently."

"Humph," Catherine muttered. "I was expecting you to say it was Deanna who was killed in the video and not her sister but that timing is a little extreme for the evidence you found in that warehouse, isn't it Gil?"

"Yes. It wouldn't fit at all," he mumbled, still reading the report.

"Well, that's exactly what I thought at first," I told Catherine, "but then I remembered something that Gil and I had been discussing earlier and it made me rearrange my thinking a little."

"It's not possible, Sara. There's no way that that video can be a tape of Deanna Wayburn's murder. The evidence at the scene wasn't-"

"Wait, Gil, let me explain. Start with the facts. We know that Natalie Friesen was the sister found in our bed; DNA has signed off on it and her prints are a positive match."

"You're sure?"

"Yep. Checked with Wendy myself. What we don't know is which sister is in the anonymous video."

Greg laughed grimly. "It's got to be Deanna obviously."

"No Greg, it doesn't. Not necessarily. Gil, remember when we were talking this out earlier and we both said that it wasn't likely Natalie could have survived what happened to the woman in the video unless it had been staged?"

"Yes." His eyebrows climbed in consideration of my assertion. "Are you suggesting that Natalie staged the video?"

"Well…sort of. It's one explanation that fits, isn't it?" I replied.

Greg shook his head. "It's a helluva stretch, Sar. I saw that video. If that was all smoke and mirrors then whoever filmed it should be up for an Oscar. I bought it…completely. That's why seeing her body in your bed threw me for a loop at first. I'd be quicker to believe the video was real and the crime scene we found faked."

I nodded eagerly. "Yes. I thought of that too."

"Okay, but how would Natalie Freisen be able to pull something like that off? I mean, without leaving a massive trail because contrary to your belief, I did a pretty in-depth background check myself." Greg shrugged. "Surely I would have come across something that would have shot us in this direction."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But, as Gil reminded me earlier, you guys weren't looking at these cases as a package, right? As separate files, the information might never have come to light. I'm not positive that she faked it because I don't exactly know how all this fits yet but both Gil and I believe that no matter how you look at it, there's something off about that video and the scene they found afterward."

"Okay," Jim sighed, fishing his battered notebook out of his pocket and scribbling a few sentences for future reference. "I'll do a little digging, too. Buzz me when that file arrives so I can see what's what. If you want I can act as the go between in that area with Taubs."

"You need sleep, Jim," I told him. "I can handle that end."

"Sleep? Yeah. Story of my life. Call, Sara. I'll be in my office getting reacquainted with my sofa until you do."

I shook my head. "You know, you're always on my case about-"

"Hey, I said I was going to lie down. I know my limits, unlike some people who think they can function solely on caffeine and adrenaline for seventy-two hours at a time."

I glared at Jim, hoping Gil was too involved in his reading to pay us much attention. "I haven't done that in ages. Why do you insist on living in the past?"

"The 'past'?" Brass chuckled wickedly. "It was last month."

Gil's head popped up, proving that he'd been following our conversation just fine. "Last month? I don't remember you pulling a shift like that last month."

_Crap! _Wishing I'd kept my mouth shut I downed the last of my coffee, mentally searching for an escape hatch from this conversation. The weekend Jim was referring to had totally slipped my mind until now and Gil was not going to be happy. He tended to worry when I let myself get carried away with work. Now, normally, that wouldn't have bothered me at all. In fact, I think it's rather sweet but in this particular case I had reason for keeping my silence. I ignored Gil's comment and answered Jim instead. "I've been busy and so has Gil. It simply never came up."

"What never came up?" Gil asked pointedly.

I folded my arms and shrank into my seat. "I plead the fifth."

But that didn't stop Jim from putting in his own two cents. "When you were in Washington for that lecture series, Sara pulled a couple of doubles. In a row."

"I had a hot case…and I was monitoring Gil's load as well. And there was that new trainee…last proofs of the new handbook…" My voice trailed off with a sigh when my husband continued to stare.

"Why didn't you tell me you were stretched that thin? I wouldn't have gone if I'd known," he told me, totally confused.

"I wasn't. It was fine," I told him, feeling really stupid about the whole thing. I hadn't realized anyone had been paying attention to how much time I'd spent at the lab when Gil was out of town. "It was good for you to get away from the lab and I took advantage of your absence to catch up on some stuff. I wasn't really that busy."

"You were busy enough to pull all-nighters. I would have stayed-" he argued.

"Exactly," I returned, wishing we were having the conversation in private so I could tell him why I'd worked straight through.

"The lecture wasn't that important-"

Catherine stopped Gil's words by placing a hand on his arm, and looked me straight in the eyes. "You know, when Eddie used to travel with his band…when I was pregnant with Lindsey and couldn't tag along…I used to have the hardest time settling down at home. I was always restless…and the house sort of felt strange without him so I would create 'busy work' to keep myself occupied so it wouldn't bother me so much." She grinned then, patting Gil's arm. "We all have our little coping mechanisms that keep us sane."

Gil blinked and then literally shook his head. "Oh," he said, turning to me and staring at me thoughtfully. "I see."

My lips twisted wryly. "Yeah. We'll…um…talk about this later, okay?"

"Fine," he said.

The man who'd given me away at my wedding stood and grinned down at me unabashedly. "Well now, looks like my work is here is done."

The rat! Quick enough to desert when the ship starts to sink. "As always, Jim, you go above and beyond the call of duty." He chuckled wearily, patted my shoulder in passing and excused himself from our table. "I'll call you later," I told his back. He waved over his shoulder as he passed through the door.

"I think Jim has the right idea," Catherine said as she and Greg followed suit. "There's not much we can do until we peek at that file. Where can I reach you if I need to?"

"We'll have our cells on, Cat. Look, um, are you sure you want to stay involved in this? There could be wicked fallout in the end if all of this goes south."

She regarded me coolly; a calculating, deadly serious, ice-queen of an expression freezing her features. "Sara, when that little pissant came at me, spouting threats and innuendo, it was the equivalent of handing me an engraved invitation to see this thing out to the end no matter what. I've worked too long and hard to have McKeen jumping at me like that and I won't put up with it."

I glanced at Greg but I didn't bother repeating my question because I could see he was just as determined. He turned to address my husband. "Hey, Grissman, you and the Missus in tonight?"

"Missus!" I huffed and wriggled my index finger beckoningly. "Come closer and say that, you coward."

"Like I'm sucker enough to make that mistake." He blew me a kiss from across the table while he waited for Gil's response.

"I'm not even sure we'll actually leave before shift starts up again," Gil replied, stoically ignoring our silliness. "I've got a few things to check out."

"All right then. See you tonight."

Gil and I were quiet for a couple of minutes after the other had left; each of us lost in deep thoughts.

"I'm not okay with having them involved in this, Gil," I said abruptly, not able to hold it in any longer.

"You heard Catherine. She's got as much at stake as we do…more if you consider that our alternatives are much better than hers should everything go to hell at the end of this."

"Yeah, there is that. You and I could go into teaching or research. I'm not sure she would enjoy those pursuits as much. She likes the science and is damn good at what she does but she lives for the chase. Straight lab work would probably bore the hell out of her."

Gil nodded and stood, assisting me from my chair and wrapping his arm around my waist in one of those sweet gestures I'd grown accustomed to over the years. We walked back to the lab with me tucked companionably into his side. I'm sure we looked for all the world like any other couple out for an early morning stroll in the bright Vegas sun. Something I'd pictured us doing after we retired from the lab.

That is of course if we made it to retirement.

That errant thought struck me about halfway along our walk, almost making me stumble.

Maybe we should be just another couple taking a morning stroll. Maybe all of this danger and agrivation was a warning; a sign of some sorts that Gil and I had tempted fate and won one too many times to push our luck any farther. We'd both had our share of close calls. Came close to losing it completely on more than one occasion. How much longer would our luck hold out?

This whole looking into the future thing really freaked me out despite the fact that I'd been a married woman for close to three years and should be used to the idea by now. Before Gil and I had gotten seriously involved, the risks and applicable dangers I faced daily were just part of the job description. Hell, there was even a time when I craved adventure to the point of experimenting with extreme sports and combat training but now…now my perspective on those things had made a full reversal and it wasn't because I was afraid or getting older. No, it was because I wasn't willing to risk losing what Gil and I had by taking unnecessary chances. I'd never admit it to him but frankly I liked the fact that the administrative portions of our current job profiles required quite a bit of desk management and paperwork. Made it a little easier to make it through a shift knowing I only had to worry about him being in the field part of the time. I'm sure if asked, my husband would say much the same thing.

Strange how one of the most threatening incidents we'd ever faced happened at a time when we were spending less and less time in the field. The irony of that was just mind boggling.

So, I guess the question before us now was rather obvious. Had Gil and I reached the point where our involvement in the lab was no longer an acceptable risk? Amazing. I was leaning strongly towards answering 'yes' to that question. I hadn't felt that way the other day when Gil had stoically informed me that he was going to hand in his resignation but since his meeting with McKeen and the revelation that we were being pressured into staying on I had an entirely different perspective on the matter. Suddenly, nothing seemed as important as the notion of Gil and me strolling down a beach hand in hand and growing old together. That thought had my muscles bunching in defense of anyone trying to take it away from us.

Gil noticed the change in my body tension and stopped mid-stride. "Sar?"

I didn't answer him at first, just shook my head and picked up our pace again but a few steps later I asked, "We're going to get through this, right Gil?"

"I have to think that we will. When you get right down to the core of it, it is just another case file. We have to believe we can close it and get on with our lives."

"What if we can't? I know we're good at what we do but the odds are not in our favor on this one."

"I'm not going to let him beat us, Sara."

"That's all well and good, but I'm not sure it's your call to make."

"That sounds a little defeatist especially coming from you. I'm not used to hearing you speak like this."

"I know. I know. Normally, I don't pay attention to the odds. Challenge me and I usually go above and beyond to meet and beat any comers but in this case….this isn't just another file, Gil."

"No, it's not. This one fits into a category all of its own. It's personal, Sara. Very personal. There's absolutely no way for us to distance ourselves from this. We're tied in by so many strings it's a miracle we can maneuver at all."

"We should just leave, Gil."

"We can't and I've explained why."

I shook my head and gestured toward a park bench. I didn't know how to tell him what I needed to say so I sort of slid into it in a round about way. I reached over and grabbed his hand, suddenly seized by a need to touch him. My thumb moved slowly, caressing the ridges of his knuckles with the pad of my finger. "I guess I'm scared, Gil," I told him as if we were continuing a conversation from an earlier time.

"I can understand that," he said, falling in step with me mentally as easily as he had ever done. "I don't think my system's stepped down from high alert since this whole thing started. I'm feeling a little hunted right now."

I nodded, looking away. "You know, whenever I pictured you…ah, retiring, I never once pictured anything like this. Being sort of, you know…forced out. I figured there would be a little ceremony. A party at least. This just seems so…wrong."

He shuddered. "Please. Just the thought of something like that makes me queasy."

"But you deserve one. You've been with this lab a long time. You've clocked countless hours and…"

"Did no more than I thought the job required."

"Would you like a shovel for that load of shit you're dumping on me?"

"Sara-"

"Seriously, Gil, there aren't words to describe how ridiculous your last statement was. You've always given everything to your work…a fact that really used to piss me off until you figured out how to divide your attention between your passions evenly."

He dropped a kiss on my lips. "That's a very nice way of saying I finally managed to pull my head out of my ass long enough to take a good look around and see what I was missing."

Smirking, I bumped him with my shoulder. "Hush. I'm trying to be serious here. This wasn't just a job…it was a vocation. Just as it was for me. No half measures. No short cuts. They can say what they like about our anti-social attitudes and our refusal to dabble in political bullshit at the lab but they can't dispute our dedication to the work or our professionalism. It was one of the things that attracted me so much to you. The first time I heard you speak at Harvard…there was…I felt an instant connection that only grew stronger the more I got to know you. You…you were always my yardstick. I measured a lot of my accomplishments against yours…really worked on trying to reach the same milestones you set for yourself."

"Sara…I'm-I'm touched but really, you put too much emphasis on th-"

I smiled up at him; it was a little brittle this time but still a genuine smile. "No, I don't. It was important to me. Necessary. It gave me a clear path to follow especially when everything else seemed impossible or just-wrong. In your eyes…in your actions…I saw value in this work; in this strange life that we lead. I knew where I fit in and how. It's embarrassing to say this but I think I know my professional strengths and weaknesses so much better than I know my personal ones." My smile softened then. "Something I owe in no small amount to you."

He shook his head. "I don't know what to say."

I shrugged, gripping his hand a little harder. "There's nothing really to say. It just is. And I'm not the only one who knows it. You're going to leave a vacancy at that lab that is going to be near to impossible to fill. I wonder if they know what they're losing."

It was his turn to glance away; to let out a sigh so deep and full of resignation that I almost cried. When he spoke I had to strain to hear the words. "There were still some things I wanted to do. Some things I wasn't ready to let go but I'm not sure that I would feel any different if I retired now or ten years from now. This isn't the way I wanted to leave either but as you said earlier, it just 'is.' The worst thing is the more I get used to the idea the less I seem to care. It's almost as if it doesn't matter that my resignation isn't official. I've made peace with the fact that my time at the lab is finite. Now I'm just marking the days."

"Maybe that's for the best as far as the lab is concerned, but is it the right thing for us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Is it really in our best interest to hang around and blindly accept whatever gets thrown at us next?"

"Possibly not but we won't know for sure until we get more information about what we're dealing with."

"All right, but Gil…those threats McKeen made…about your pension, your research…about Catherine and me…they're all very good reasons to stay here and see this through but are they good enough?" He opened his mouth to answer but I waved him off. "No, listen. Oh, I didn't think this would be so hard to say but…I know you've always said that we are the victim's last chance to speak. I've built a life on being their surrogate voice, working for justice to avenge the innocent…but there are two sets of victims in this crime and I have to believe that the rights of the living take precedence over the cries of the dead. I want to help those women. I want to see their killer or killers behind bars but not if it means the possibility of sacrificing what we have. That's too high a price to pay."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"We leave. We go someplace where we can start fresh and leave all of this behind us."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah. I know you think that by staying here and working the case we have some element of control in this situation but I'm not so sure."

"If we leave we lose all control. That's a definite. Some is better than none."

"Only if we're fighting a battle we can win. We don't know the rules, Gil, or the objective of this game we're being forced to play and since I have a terrible feeling that we're being set up to loose, I've discovered that I have very little interest in sticking around for the outcome. My self-preservation instincts are clamoring for attention and I think it would be utterly stupid to ignore them in this situation."

My husband leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers. He grew very still and I waited as he turned my words around in his head, examining them carefully before saying, "You haven't said anything here that hasn't passed through my mind a thousand times since I walked into our bedroom the other morning. In fact, on some level, I agree with everything you've said, but Sara, the one thing that keeps pushing at me is the feeling that no matter how far we go, we're not going to be able to out-run this. It's true…what you said…about us being in the dark about so many aspects of this case but someone out there believes that we know more than we should. Someone is scared enough to risk murder and threats to keep whatever secrets he holds dear being brought out in the open and that means that leaving Las Vegas is no guarantee of our safety. You said so yourself. We'd be constantly looking over our shoulder, wondering…when…if…someone was going to come after us. There's no future in that for us. I look at leaving as a last resort. A choice to be made only when and if there are no other options."

"What if we don't get a chance to make that choice? What if things go from bad to worse and there's no longer a choice to be made?"

"Then at least we'll know it's finished. We'll have to find what comfort we can in that." He stood, pulling me up with him. "Come on. Maybe there'll be something in that file that turns this whole thing around to our advantage."


	13. Chapter 13

Follow the Leader

Part XIII

"It's just down this hallway," Gil told me, leading me around yet another corner before stopping in front of a well-worn looking door. He slipped a key into a banged up lock, and after a bit of jiggling, managed to get it to release. "Just a sec," he said as he fished an arm around the jamb and found a light switch. "There. That's better." He stepped into the room and after a brief hesitation, I followed.

Dust coated every surface. The room looked like it hadn't been disturbed in years. "What is this place?"

"Just an old storage room for the most part but it sometimes doubles as Archie's playground."

"You're kidding." My fingers practically itched to clean, sort, dust and label. It was a sickness, I know, but I could think of a hundred things worse than being an obsessive neat freak.

Gil was still moving through the space. "No. See, take a look."

We side stepped around some rickety looking old storage shelves that were stuffed to the gills with electronics of every shape, size and description to enter a small area of the room that had been cleared for a workspace. Someone…and of course I assumed it was Archie…had set up a control board, monitor screens, and various other mechanisms cobbled together from what I could only assume were the innards of the technological graveyard surrounding us. At least this part of the room was a little tidier. "Wow. And people used to say I needed a hobby."

"This is Archie's hobby."

"He finds it relaxing to play Dr. Frankenstein with retro computer shells and wires?"

"Yes. So do some of the other tech heads but as far as I know Archie is the only person who uses this equipment. Until now." He winked at me and signaled me to come closer.

"Okay, right. That was my next question. What are we doing here exactly?"

Gil began pushing buttons and the monster control board started to whirr and hum. "You said that there was no point in just standing around while we waited for the file to be delivered. You also said you'd like to have a look at the video we were sent, though what exactly you thought you might see that Archie, Greg and I missed is a little beyond me." As he spoke, computer screens flashed and data monitors came to life. "However, I don't see how a fresh set of eyes could hurt."

"We have more information now, Gil. I just want to see if there is anything that will give us a clue as to when that video was shot. We suspect that it is the older sister but I'd like to have some proof to support that theory. That still doesn't really explain why we're here. We need some pretty high end equipment to do the type of searching I intend to do and—"

"I assure you that though this outfit may not look as good as the stuff in the AV lab upstairs, it is every bit as sophisticated. Maybe more so. Archie's been trying some experimental configurations and he says he's recently had some interesting results. Most importantly, it allows us some privacy. If we do uncover something in this tape, I'd like to keep whatever it is between us until we know how everything else fits together."

I watched Gil work the control panel with a practiced hand. It was obvious he was familiar with the configuration. "Does he know you're about to mess with his toy?"

"No, but I have an open invitation and when the lab is busy upstairs, I take advantage of this area when I'm pressed for time." My husband smirked. "It's good to be the boss."

"So I see. But Gil, I don't know if I want to be all the way down here when that file arrives. The whole point of sticking around was to make sure we were there to accept it when the delivery comes."

"I've got Judy on the lookout for it with strict instructions to call me as soon as it gets here. I told her it was confidential information and for our eyes only. Pull up a chair."

We worked studiously for over an hour, scanning the video frame by nasty frame. Gil had been correct in saying that despite its resemblance to an overgrown science fair experiment, Archie's creation worked every bit as well and as quickly as its counterpart four floors up.

We were just about to call it a day when my husband paused in mid-scroll and leaned toward the screen. "What? What is it?"

"There. In the corner, Sara. That girlie calendar."

"Zoom in. Zoom in," I urged but Gil was already doing that. "Look at the date, Gil."

"March of this year." He sat back, slumping in his chair. "Dammit, Sara. How could we have missed this before?"

I waved him off. "Like I said, different information, different focus. Give yourself some credit. You caught it this time. Do you remember if that calendar was in the warehouse when you guys did your collection?"

He shook his head. "It wasn't. Anything that could have had a trace of DNA had been removed. Same goes for anything that would humanize that space. They'd left behind only what they needed to set the scene for us so that we would be convinced that the video had been shot there."

"Yes, I didn't remember reading about anything like this in the file." I took a sip of my coffee and gestured with the cup at the screen. "This is all so bizarre. So, given the fact that the calendar was dated almost two years later than Deanna Wayburn's disappearance and subsequent murder, we have to assume that Natalie set this entire thing up. The question is why?"

My husband was back at the controls again, replaying the segment we'd just watched and following through the remaining shots. "There's always the obvious. She wanted revenge for her sister's death. Maybe she thought reenacting the attack and putting it on the web would force someone's hand." He made it to the end of the tape and began to shut things down.

"Blackmail's another option." I said, ejecting the disc and slipping it into its protective sleeve.

"Yes. Regardless, we know that Natalie Freisen was determined to get a reaction from someone." Gil's face was grim and hollowed by the remnants of Natalie's violent death.

I'm sure mine wasn't much better. "I wonder if she knew how dangerous a game she was playing? When you and Greg searched her apartment, did you find anything that could have linked back to this video shoot?"

"No. Nothing. The place was very clean. Hardly lived in at all, in fact. I believe I made notes to that nature in the file."

"We need to find out what she knew…and who helped her make this film. We also need to know why Deanna was murdered in the first place."

"And all without tipping our hand to McKeen." He stood and I followed suit, pushing our chairs in and began working our way out of the room.

"Something which is going to be near to impossible because it looks like he's been involved in this from day one," I replied, flicking off the lights before closing the door tightly behind us.

"Yes." We walked slowly through the hallway, each of us sorting through our mental file boxes to assess our next move. "Alright," he said, pressing the elevator button that would take us back to our floor. "We have to go back to the start. You and I need to take a little road trip."

"We do?" I asked, knowing what he was going to say before he said it.

"Oh yes. As soon as we get that file, we're going to pay a visit to Gail Wayburn."


	14. Chapter 14

Follow the Leader

Follow the Leader

Part XIV

"You know, Gil, add a six pack of suds and this could be a real party." My tone was drier than dust but my husband didn't pick up on it.

His voice was low and very serious when he answered, "Don't even joke about that. Making this trip has been interesting enough without adding alcohol into the mix." His brow was pleated with lines, and I knew he wasn't really listening to anything I'd been saying for the last couple of miles.

I rolled my eyes and propped my chin on my hand. "I was being sarcastic. Besides, you know alcohol doesn't affect me that way. If you want to go wild, slip me a couple of those antihistamine tablets you're so fond of."

That got his attention. He shot me an overly patient look. "Over my dead body." He reached out to take a sip from his cola can that sat in the driver's cup holder. "I'm sorry. I guess I've been a little pre-occupied."

"A little?" I fired back. "You tuned out completely a half an hour ago and I'm sure you were only half listening for quite a while before that. Honestly, Gil. I thought getting away from the office was a good idea. Give us a chance to feel 'normal'. A little distance from the tension but you've brought all of it with you." I flicked off the radio that had been playing softly in the background. "Talk to me."

He washed the back of his neck with his hand. "My brain just keeps spiraling through the conversations I had with McKeen and the one we had with the others at the deli."

"And?"

"And…I'm trying to see some logic to it. McKeen is desperate enough to threaten my livelihood and my wife to keep me on until this case is resolved but at the same time his actions with the others would suggest that he's trying to get rid of us. I just don't understand where he's coming from."

I dug a spoonstraw into my fruit smoothie and dug out a large chunk of frozen strawberry. "Hmm, looks like one escaped the blender claws," I said before replying to his statement. "I know what you mean. I was bothered by the same thing. It almost feels like he's trying to cover all of the bases…you know, be prepared for all eventualities."

"Or…" Gil paused, his expression blanking again.

I nudged him gently. "Don't leave me hanging."

"Sorry…where was I?"

"I don't know. Um. 'Or…'"

He shook his head. "I'm not sure now. I think I lost my train of thought."

He was hiding something from me. He knew and I knew it. Something quite disturbing if I was to take anything from his current, more intense, frown. I knew he'd tell me eventually, when he felt ready so I eased off. "Well, it will come back to you. Maybe you just need to let it be for a while." I looked down at the GPS locator on my phone screen. "We must be getting close." We were heading into a developed rural area where estate houses where visible on large patches of land. Private lanes branched from either side of the highway and took a meandering, scenic path to the well-appointed mansions with their private security gates. "One of these turn-offs must be hers."

"What was the name of the road again?"

"Wayburn Lane."

"Appropriate."

"Quite." His British accent was good. Mine was better. "There it is, Gil. On your left. Just take this turn about over here and we can go over the overpass and circle back to it." He nodded, squinting. "What's wrong?"

"Headache," he answered briefly. "It's nothing."

"Headache or migraine?"

"I'm not sure yet."

"See. You tune me out and look what happens," I teased gently to hide my concern. I glanced around at the grey tinged sky. "Well, we're in for a storm. Maybe it's the weather. I'm feeling a little 'headachy' myself. Did you bring your pills? I can drive back."

"I have some but I don't want to take anything until I'm sure. You might be right and it's just a reaction to the weather."

I snorted, not buying his response for a minute. "No, you don't want to take one because you don't want to be out of it during this interview…or after for that matter."

"I don't see an end to this lane, Sara. Just take another look at the GPS and make sure we're going in the right direction."

"I just did that and we are. Stop trying to change the subject. I can handle an interview on my own, Gil."

"No one said you couldn't."

"In fact, she might be more likely to talk more freely with me than with you in tow because I was the one who spoke to her earlier on the phone."

"Possibly."

"So pull over so you can take the damn pill and let me drive before that migraine blossoms full force."

He glanced over with a conciliatory twist to his mouth. "Sara-"

"Don't even try to sweet talk me, Gilbert Grissom-"

"Then stop trying to mother me!"

"I'll stop when you stop acting like a child," I fired back, daring him to keep arguing.

There was a small pause in which he flexed and clenched his fingers a couple of times on the wheel then he looked over at me with a tight little grin. "If I take a couple of regular pain tablets to get me through the interview will you be satisfied with that?"

"No," I answered with brutal honesty. "Will you be able to take you prescription pills after?"

"Yes. As long as you drive home."

"Okay then. Fine. Pull over. You're starting to get those faint green lines on the sides of your mouth and the colour is all but gone from your face. Where are the pills?"

"In the storage bin under the seat." The first thing he did after he eased the car to the shoulder of the road was examine his face in the mirror. "Hmmmph. Hadn't noticed that before."

"What?"

"Those green lines you mentioned."

I paused in my effort to find the pain relievers and shrugged. "Gil, you get them every time. In fact, I usually know you have a migraine before you do." I bent down again and found the bottle on the first try. "Here." I popped the cap, liberated a couple of pills from their plastic prison and dropped them into his open palm. "Do you want to switch now or after we see her."

"After," he insisted, after downing half a bottle of water from our little stash of snack items behind his seat.

"Okay," I said cautiously, deciding I could push the matter later if I felt things were getting worse. "I think you're right. She's probably just over the next rise. Let's get moving before those clouds open up."

We drove on, not exchanging much more than a couple of words during the next few minutes, cresting the rise easily enough but finding nothing but more road for our trouble. "Wow. This place is really set back, isn't it?"

"Yes. But we've got to be on the right road. Her directions were pretty clear. Let me call."

After a brief conversation, I hung up and nodded. "Yep. We're good to go but by her estimate we're still several minutes away yet." I sighed. "How's your head?"

"About the same," he said, softly. "The pills haven't really had enough time to work."

"Hmmm. Mine's gotten a little worse." So much worse, I silently added, that I was very tempted to take a couple of Gil's pain relievers…and deal with the consequences after.

"Then it's a good thing I spotted the house. Look over there."

In the prettiest little patch of land, sat an elegant but sprawling country home. Positioned at carefully as a perfectly cut diamond lays in its setting, the house was angled deliberately to not only compliment the best features of the property but to show off its lines to the best of its advantage. "Wow. Can we say, 'money', boys and girls?"

Gil shook his head slowly in agreement. "This house isn't as old as some of the others we've passed. Much newer judging from the outside."

"Perhaps. Or maybe it was just recently renovated to look like that was the case. You know as well as I do that they can do remarkable things now with a bit of paint and new building materials."

"True. Guess there's only one way to find out." He set the car in motion again and we followed the long, winding road until the nose of our car met up with a heavy, wrought iron gate. Video security cameras came to life as we drew close and a monitor lit up at Gil's side the minute we came to a stop.

"Welcome," a friendly voice bid us. "Please state your name and business."

"Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle Grissom here to see Mrs. Wayburn."

"Identification please."

After a look of surprise passed between us at the request, we both dug into our pockets and presented the appropriate ID to the screen.

"Thank-you. Processing." There was a pause and a whirr and then the monitor change from a dark red screen to a cool, welcoming, blue one. "Thank-you Gil Grissom and Sara Sidle Grissom. The gate will open momentarily. Please follow the drive up to the main doors of the house. A member of our staff will be there to meet you."

"Thank-you," my husband said politely and rolled up his window. "Heavy security for such a remote locale."

"Perhaps that's why…the isolation, I mean. One can't be too careful nowadays."

"No. One can't." We followed a well-manicured lane lined with apple-blossom trees to the front doors, coming to a stop on a circular cobble-stone pad. A young man, dressed formally in a black suit and tie, stood on the steps, frowning at his shoes. He looked up as the car approached but waited until we'd come to a complete stop before ascending the steps to greet us.

"Good afternoon. My name is Mitchell. Mrs. Wayburn informed me this morning of your impending visit and the nature of your inquiry. She's waiting in the solarium. I will be happy to take you to her as soon as I've verified that neither of you are carrying firearms."

Not quite sure how to respond to that, I looked toward Grissom. Though his face sported his usual open, intelligent expression, I could see a faint shadow of wariness in his eyes at Mitchell's words. "Though neither my wife nor myself are currently bearing arms, it would be quite natural, considering our occupations to carry a weapon. I'm curious as to why you would ask an officer of the law to relinquish his weapon."

"That is a point of discussion you'll need to take up with Mrs. Wayburn. I don't make the rules, I only enforce them." Mitchell rocked back on his heels and slid a glance at our car. "Are there any firearms in your vehicle?"

My instinctive response was to deny that there were but there was something in Mitchell's manner that warned me against such an action. Before Gil could answer, I spoke up, "I have the strangest feeling that you already know the answer to that question. Tell me, we were scanned at the gate or farther up the lane?"

The security man acknowledged my correct summation with a tiny nod of his head. "The gate of course. If you'd been carrying rifles and machine guns rather than those two standard issue '38's you'd never have gotten access. Much easier to deny entry rather than try to get you out later."

Not at all in love with his cocky attitude I tossed back, "No doubt. The guns are in the trunk; a fact of which I'm sure you're perfectly aware. So, I take it your first inquiry was something of a test?"

"If you like. Please, follow me." Mitchell jogged his way back up the steps and opened the door.


	15. Chapter 15

Follow the Leader

Part XV

Mrs. Caroline Wayburn Freisen the Third was a petite, intelligent woman with the bearing of a dowager duchess. Though her smile was friendly enough I believe that both Gil and I felt the intensity of her scrutiny from across the room. She stood as we entered, spry and energetic despite having had two grown daughters, and met us half-way into the room. Her dark features seemed as open as her curiosity for the guests her security man was escorting through the door but when one got close enough to see her eyes, shadows of grief danced in their centres despite her efforts to hide them.

I decided to take the lead and extended my hand to shake in greeting. "Mrs. Wayburn, I'm Sara Sidle Grissom. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes. I recognize your voice. Nice to meet you though I wish the circumstances could be more pleasant."

"This is my husband and co-worker, Dr. Gilbert Grissom. We're very pleased you could meet with us on such short notice."

She waved off my comment and led the way back to a glass dinette set in the corner of the room. "Yes, well, when it comes to my-ahem, excuse me, my daughters I make every effort to be accommodating. Always have. Please sit. Coffee? Tea?"

I looked at Gil and he nodded. "Ah, coffee for us both, thank you," I said. "It was quite a drive."

"Yes, we're a little isolated. There are as many advantages as disadvantages to that circumstance. I just hope you'll be able to get back before the storm sets in."

"We were hoping that ourselves. We'll try not to take too much of your time."

She poured coffee with an accomplished hand, offering a cup to Mitchell and inviting him to take the empty seat beside her. "No need to stand on ceremony with this couple, Mitchell. They're here to discuss Deanna and Natalie." At the mention of the girls' names, he paused in the act of seating himself and pinned a polite smile to his face.

"Please excuse me, Mrs. Wayburn. I just remembered an errand that should have been seen to this morning."

There was silence as he walked out broken only when Caroline Wayburn cleared her throat and put the coffee urn back on the table. "Mitchell's been a part of the family since before the girls were born. I'd always hoped that he and Natalie…well, enough said. He took it hard when Deanna disappeared but…when your call came and we learned that Natalie…oh dear…I'd promised myself I could get through this but now…" She swiped at her pale cheek, checking a tear before it had a chance to travel far. "If you'll excuse me for a moment. I'll just see that he's alright."

Her low-heeled shoes made a soft, hollow, clicking sound as she went off in search of her security man. Grissom and I watched in silence as she left and then turned back to the table. "Well," he said. "That was a curious exchange."

I nodded. "Yes. I'm not really sure what to make of it but it's obvious they are both still hurting." Since we were alone, I let my eyes scan the room taking note of alarm sensors in the corners of the windows and doors as well as the ceiling mounted camera by the patio doors. "High security, Gil."

"I noticed," he said. "This place would give Fort Knox a run for its money."

I smirked at that. "Were you trying to be funny or was that totally unintentional?"

"Which answer makes me seem smarter?"

"That I can't say. I know which one makes you sound geekier." I nudged his shoulder with mine and leaned in closer. "How's the head."

"A little better actually. Maybe it's the caffeine," he said, gesturing with his cup.

"Maybe. I'm glad you're recovering. As I said, we'll try to make this as quick as possible."

***

We walked out of the mansion forty-five minutes later, neither of us much wiser.

Though Mrs. Wayburn had rejoined us, the interview had pretty much fizzled from that point. Though we were able to get a few more details with regard to the events previous to the girls' separate disappearances, there wasn't much Mrs. Wayburn could add to what was already in the files. She hadn't been in attendance at the charity auction on the night of Deanna's abduction and Natalie had been away at school when she had gone missing so much of Caroline's information about that night was second-hand. I wanted to probe deeper but simply didn't have the time due to extenuating circumstances.

Mitchell had not rejoined the conversation despite Mrs. Wayburn's insistence that he do so and after just a few minutes into our discussion she suddenly broke into to tears, told us she was sorry and excused herself for the second time. A few minutes later someone from the house staff strode into the room and explained that Mrs. Wayburn was too upset to continue at that moment but that she had plans to come to Las Vegas early in the week and would reschedule an interview with us then. There was very little that we could say to that so we left.

We took our time walking down the front steps to the car, keeping our own council but when Gil started for the driver's side of the vehicle, I stopped outright.

"Keys please," I said, holding out my hand.

"I'm feeling much better-"

"Sorry, Gil. The deal was I let you in on the interview and you take your pill when it was done. That headache's not gone…simply on hold."

When he didn't argue with me, I knew I was right in insisting he come through on our bargain. "Just as well," he said with a smartass smirk.

"What?"

"If I have to be your passenger, I might as well make the best of it."

"How so?"

"That medication will put me out so I won't care how fast you're driving."

"Hardy har har." We both settled into the car and began pulling on seatbelts. "I'm a damn good driver and you know it."

"One of the best," he agreed, saluting me with his bottle of water and downing a tiny white pill. "Good thing too otherwise you and your lead foot could be a considered a lethal weapon. Speed limits-"

"-are there for a reason. I know. I know. I've heard it all before. Honestly, you act like all I do is tear around the town-"

"-and the desert-"

"The desert?"

"Well, to hear Greg tell it, that's exactly what you do."

"Greg exaggerates."

"That goes without saying but I happen to believe him in this instance."

"Really? More fool you."

"Then you weren't doing 30 miles over the limit all the way to that scene in the desert last week?"

"What scene?"

"The one near that bat cave you love so much."

"You mean the cave you love so much…and I…I don't remember."

He yawned. "Yeah. Right. You remember. Hell, you probably remember what you had for breakfast that morning." He reclined his seat slightly and closed his eyes.

"Remind me to have a little chat with our buddy, Greg, when we get back to the lab."

"I could but it won't do you any good."

"Oh? And why's that?"

"Let's just say that he and I have an understanding."

"Which is?"

"He keeps me updated on your, ahem, driving exploits and I fund his coffee habit."

"That's a little underhanded, _honey_."

"Yeah, _honey_, it is."

"Sneaky even."

"No doubt, but if it helps keep Ecklie and Brass off my back, I consider it a good investment." At my silence, he opened one eye to peek at me. "What? You think I'm the only one at the lab concerned about this?"

Non-plussed, I shrugged. "I hadn't considered it a widely discussed topic."

"Your nick-name around the water cooler is, 'Hell on Wheels.'"

I opened my mouth to zing him but the little quiver at the side of his mouth stopped me. "You rat. You're putting me on."

"You'll never know for sure. Shhhh. Sleeping now."

"Rat, rat, rat."

"Shhhh."

"Rat," I whispered, and let him drift off. Time enough later to pick up this line of inquiry after he woke. Or maybe I would let it drop. I mean, he was hardly wrong. I did drive fast. Very fast. A lot. What's more, this wasn't the first time Gil and I had discussed it but I hadn't realized just how much it bothered him until now. Hmmm. Might have to put some thought into this. If my need for speed was going to make him this edgy, I might have to find other ways of satisfying my 'thrill' cravings.

I could take up parachuting again. Hmm. Gil would _love_ that. Then again, he might even join me. He did some parachuting in his day. He…_oh…my head's starting to hurt again_. I ducked my head to look out of the top part of the window. The clouds had moved off and to the side, the wind taking them in practically the opposite direction in which we were traveling. Maybe the pressure was still high. I glanced down at my still companion. Looked like he was resting comfortably. Good. I didn't want him suffering any more than he was already.

Some ten minutes later, still driving in the back of beyond, I realized that that headache of mine was really starting to get vicious. Not only that, but my eyes were starting to droop a little. I forced myself to focus on the road, wondering in the back corner of my mind if I'd ever had a headache this bad before and realized the answer was no…at least not one this intense unless it had sprung from a concussion or some such other injury. _Wow_. _If there was a motel or anything suitable I'd pull over in an instant but…_I looked around knowing it was a useless effort until we hit the highway. I searched my brain, trying to remember if any of the scenery looked familiar so I could have a better estimate of my distance but it was of little use. I had to push on. I simply had to…


	16. Chapter 16

Follow the Leader

Part XVI

…crap…it got dark all of a sudden…CRAP! OPEN YOUR EYES, SARA! OPEN YOUR EYES!

I slammed on the brake, jerking myself upright to see the road just in time to avoid the tree that had somehow appeared directly in my path. The car screeched to a halt a breath away from a head-on collision with an ancient-looking, enormous tree trunk and I sat there frozen in place trying to make sense of what had almost happened.

"Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod! What's going on? What the hell is going on?"

I collapsed back in my seat, my death grip on the steering wheel suddenly growing lax and boneless and tried to focus long enough to put together a coherent thought. Every part of me felt achy and listless. My head was throbbing almost as loud and hard as my heart was pounding but I didn't have the energy to do more than stare out the window. "This is not good, Sara. Not good at all."

A restless movement in the seat beside me almost made me scream in terror. "Oh my god! Gil! I forgot you were here. How could I have forgotten you were here?!" I pushed myself unsteadily away from my resting place and leaned over to see if he was alright. "Gil? GIL! Can you hear me? Gil?" I tried to shake him awake but other than trying to bat my hand away, he made no real response. "I've never seen you out like this! Come on, Gil. You need to wake up! Gil! GIL!" I tried for several minutes to rouse him but I might as well have been shouting at the sea to stop moving. He simply wasn't capable of a response. He was however breathing evenly and had no apparent issues to deal with other than his unresponsiveness so I suppose I had to be grateful for that.

I groaned and hauled my weight back to my side of the car. Had to think! Had to think! This wasn't normal. Gil's reaction to his meds wasn't right. Nope…wasn't right. Wasn't left either. Wasn't in the middle. So what was it? It was…something. Yes. It was something, wasn't it?

Hmmm. What to do? What to do?

Take a pill? Did that. He did that. I did that. Didn't work. Did not work. Nope. Not the answer. Not the answer.

Think.

Think.

Thinkity…think think think.

I giggled sharply over the Seusionian mental image that flowed into my brain. A black and white cat in a red and white hat saying, "I don't know what to do, do you?"

Do you? No, not you, me. Do me? Wait…do I?

Do I…what? Will I what? Oh baby, you know what I like…chantilly lace and a pretty face…ponytail, hanging down…

Stop it! Stop it! What's wrong with you? Do something! Do something. Something.

BBBBBBUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

"BEES! Ohhhhhhhgodddddd, here come the bees!!!!!!" I flung open the car door and jumped out, scurrying around to wrench at Gil's handle. It wouldn't open. "Dammit. Dammit! It's locked! Locked! Gil, the bees…they're coming…the bees!"

BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

A vibrating light caught my attention. Not bees. Phone. Phone! The phone was ringing. My phone. My phone was ringing.

Yep.

I could answer it.

I could answer it! That would stop the ringing. I could answer it!

I raced around to the driver's side again and grabbed at it. I missed. Then I missed again. "Stand still you stupid little-Hello?" Third time was the charm. How charming! My finger hit the connect button and I responded automatically to the greeting on the other end.

"Sara? Is that you?"

"It better be or somebody else is wearing my underwear. Who's there?"

"Sara, it's me, Greg…are you alright?"

"Yep. Fine. Never been better. And you?"

"UM, good. Ah, Sara? You sound a little strange."

"So do you but I'm too much of a lady to say something nasty like that!"

"What? No, wait, that wasn't what I meant-"

"It's not nice to be mean, Greg. Not nice at all. I mean, you're supposed to be nice to people. Didn't your mother ever teach you that? Nice is nice and mean is mean and pineapples only grow south of the border in little tiny nests so you can't always get what you want. Especially pineapples."

"Excuse me?"

"That's better. Now. What were we talking about?"

"I don't know-"

"Neither do I. Maybe we finished."

"No, we haven't even started. Sara, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. We're fine, right, Gil? Just fine. We didn't hit the tree so we're fine."

"Tree?! What tree?"

"The big one in front of the windshield. See?" I held the phone out towards the tree so Greg could see it for himself. "That tree."

"Sara, are you hurt? Did you hit your head?"

"Nope. Didn't hit my head. Didn't hit anything. Told you. Almost hit the tree but didn't. I missed! Was I supposed to hit it?"

"No…no…you weren't. Where's Grissom?"

"Gilbert? Oh, he's here. SHhhhhhhhh. Sleeping."

"What? He's sleeping."

"Like a baby. Like a cute, overgrown bearded baby. Can't wake him up."

"What do you mean you can't wake him?"

"He's sleeping, Greg! Sleeping like the dead."

"Is he breathing?! Sara, is he breathing?"

"Of course he is, silly, otherwise he would be dead!"

Greg gulped into the phone. "Listen carefully, Sara. Can you tell me where you are?"

"Yes, but then I'd have to kill you."

"What?"

"Top secret, Greg. SHHHHHHH…no tell." I giggled merrily at that.

"Listen, Sara, listen. You need to tell me. I have to know where you are so I can send out a rescue team."

"Rescue team, come take me in your arms…rescue me…I want some tender charms…cause I love you…"

"Sara, stop singing and listen, will you? Look around. Where are you?"

I sighed, heavily, from my gut. "On a road…a country road…country roads…take me home, to the place…I belonnnnnnngggggggg!"

"It's no use, she's not making any sense," I heard him say, and then heard some fumbling before another voice cut in.

"Sara?"

"Jimmmmmm! Jimmy Boy! You gonna join the party too?"

"Yeah, in a minute, Sar. But first you got to tell me just where this party is."

"You mean where it's at, right Jim-Jim Man? Where it's at! Where it's going down!"

"Yes, all that. Sure. We can't join you if you don't tell us how to find you."

"So true. So true. Like I told old Greg there, we're on a road. Bring snacks!"

"Wait, Sara!"

"No snacks, no service."

"Sara! Which road? There's lots of roads, honey. I need to know which one."

"Lots of roads! You're right, Jim! There are lots of roads. It's really confusing. They should name them or something. Make it easier to find things."

"They do name them, Sara – Greg, get someone to get a lock on her GPS signal! Move! Sara, you still there?"

"And not all the same name…different names. I mean if you named them all the same…well, what would be the point of naming them at all, right Jimmy Joe Bob?"

"UM, right. Right. They do name them, Sara."

"Different names?"

"Yes. Different ones."

"Oh. That was fast. Guess I had a good idea then."

"Yes, I guess you did. Now, think really hard. Can you tell me the name of the road you're on right now?"

"Yep. Sure."

There was a pause. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"The name, Sara."

"The name?"

"Of the road you're on. What's the name of the road, Sara?"

"Oh. I don't know…I don't know if I can remember it."

"You've got to try, sweetheart. Come on…for me, please."

"Okay. Okay…don't rush me. Um…Um…it's…ah, it's…Way-something. Way…Way…"

"Okay, let's try this another way. Do you remember where you were going?"

"Vegas."

"No, I mean…okay, I should have said, do you remember where you went?"

"Caroline's house."

"Caroline? Caroline who?"

"Deanna's mom. Oh, and Natalie's."

"Way…Wayburn? Is that the name of the road, Sara? Wayburn Road?"

"Sure. Whatever you say…oh, hey, Brass?"

"Yes?"

"My phone is flashing…low battery. Gotta go."

"Sara!"

CLICK


	17. Chapter 17

Follow the Leader

Part XVII

"_Weeeellllll, I've been through the desert, on a horse with no name, except I named him fluffly because it wasn't the same, as the last purple horse I rode out in the rain…that turned greeeeeeennnnnn._

(SNICKER)

_La la la dida dad a…more la's and la's and more didi da da's…lots more horses without any names…that turned greeeeennnnn._

(SNORT).

"Gil, you know, you could wake up and contribush…conti-buti…add a word or two here. Getting a little boring, dear…" I hefted my automatic and sighted it through the window at a cloud that looked remarkably similar to a bullseye but dropped it just as quickly because my wrist was doing a fantastic imitation of a well-cooked noodle.

_Knock. Knock knock._

"Gil, my gun is knocking. I had no idea that it could do that! Wicked! Shhh. Shhhh. Listen, let's see if it does it again!"

_Knock. Knock. Knock._ "Sara! Sara!"

"Cripes! Now it's talking! Who the hell taught it to do that?!" I turned the barrel and squinted, trying to see into the nozzle. "This is so cool!"

"What are you-Sara! Put the gun down, Sara! Come on, put it down!"

"Wait a minute, Gil. What if someone didn't teach it to talk? What if it's possessed? Or what if there's some little teeny, tiny man inside my gun, telling it what to say?!"

"Sara! Sara! Open the door!"

"Waiiiittttt a minute. I've heard that voice before! That's not any teeny tiny man. That's a teeny tiny Brass!" I put the gun up to my ear. "Brass? Jim? Isssssthaaaaattttyyyouuuuuuuu? How'd you get in my gun and where the hell are you hiding? Come out, come out, wherever you are!" I chortled and gave the gun a little twirl on my fingers then peered down the barrel again. "Pretty slick, Brassman! I know you're in there. Maybe if I move this out of the way…" I flicked off the safety tried to peek in the other end.

"I'm here, Sara! Outside the car! No, you idiots, you break the window in, she might fire and blow your idiot head right off. Back off! The last thing we want to do is scare her like that. I said, 'back off'!" A shadow blocked some of the intense light and leaned against the frame of the car. "Come on, Sara. Look over here!"

There was another gentle rapping so rolled my head towards the driver's side window and naturally my gun wanted to see what was going on too, so I pointed it at the window so it could have a better view. A familiar but slightly squished face peered back at me. "Brass! You got out of the gun! Good to see you back to your normal size. Hey, Gil, it's Brass. Man, you got to wake up now. Party's gonna start! It's going on…it's going down…it's…it's…" I turned to Gil super excited but deflated as soon as I realized Gil was still messing around, pretending to sleep. "Dammit, Gil! You're embarrassing me. Enough with the games. We have guests." Again, no response. "At least get the door, you lazy bug dude." I pointed my gun at my husband, shaking it for good measure but he didn't so much as blink. I tried to send him my scariest look but since I knew I was bluffing I doubt it bothered him much.

"Sara, open the door. Unlock the door for me."

I shook my husband. "Jim's really anxious, Gil. Probably hasn't got his groove thing moving for a while. Got to get up now, hun. Sleepy time bye bye is over. (SIGH). Sorry, Jim, Gil's still out for the count. Looks like just you and me and oh…should we invite the helicopter guy?"

"No, Sara, that's okay. He's a little busy right now trying to find a place to land. Listen, Sara. I need you to open the door for me but more importantly, I need you to put the gun down."

I frowned, suddenly seeing two Brass' instead of just the one. "That's a cute trick too but not as clever as shrinking and popping into my gun! I bet Greg was the mastermind behind that one. By the way, where is Greg?"

"He's just getting out of the helicopter now. Sara, please, just put the gun on the seat and let me in."

I shook my head. The noise from the helicopter was making my head pound harder than it had been before. "No can do, Brassman. No can do. Need the gun. Got to protect Gil."

"Protect him from what, honey?" Jim asked, moving aside a little as Greg joined him. Greg bent and whispered something in Brass' ear and Jim shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not. You tell those hot heads that I'm in charge here and they are to wait for my directions."

Greg bent and spoke in low tones into his collar.

"Did you bring more shrunken people, Greg?" I asked carefully, my eyes shifting around, scanning the nearby bushes.

"Ah, no, I ah, didn't Sara."

"Then who are you talking to, Greg?"

"The helicopter guys, Sara. Just letting them know that everything's okay and we'll just chatting."

"But everything's not okay. We're surrounded," I told them in a whisper. A look passed between Jim and Greg and though they tried to hide it, I knew what they were thinking. "We are!" I insisted. "And we have to be on guard. I have my gun! I'll protect us!"

"It's okay, Sara, calm down. Greg and I have our guns too. Everything's just fine. Let's just all calm down," Jim said,

"No. NO! I can't. I have to stay alert. I have to protect Gil."

"Sara, we can do that for you, honey. You've done a great job of keeping watch but you're tired. Let us take a turn guarding him and you can have some rest."

"There's no one around for miles and miles except us," Greg said soothingly. "Lower your weapon and-"

I gestured with the gun, beckoning them to lean in closer to hear my whisper. "You're forgetting the trees."

Greg's eyes went wide. "Trees? Did she say trees?"

"The trees, Sara? Sara, I can barely hear you. Roll down the window so I can understand you better."

"Holly crap is she out of it."

"Shut up, Greg, just go with it. It must be sweltering in that car. Come on, Sara. How can I help you if I can't understand you. Roll down the window just a little, okay?"

"Okay, but just a little. Can't be too careful. Trees are sneaky." I opened the window just the barest crack.

"Yes, so I've heard, but see, isn't this better? I can hear you perfectly right now."

"Yes, Jim, but so can the trees. I'm not so sure that this is a good idea. I'm too tired to outrun another tree."

"Outrun-Sara, I don't think…I'm not sure…Listen, everything's going to be just fine. You sit right there and we'll pop the door open and-" Greg made a move toward the top of the window and I knew I couldn't let him do that.

"You can't do that!" Without thought, I raised the gun and pointed it directly at Greg. "You can't open the door." I turned and pleaded with Brass. "It isn't safe, Jim. I told you that."

"Take it easy, honey. It's okay. It's okay. I'm just trying to help you and Gil."

"Well opening the door won't help. The trees will come at us and I've only got two bullets left!"

Greg practically choked. "You fired your gun, Sara?"

"Had too. Didn't want to. Had to," I told him with a groan, forcing my eyes to stay open.

Jim was just as excited. "Two bullets, Sara? Do you remember how many you had to start?"

"Full round," I muttered, shifting uncomfortably on the seat. "Missed it the first couple of times. Damn tree kept moving. But I was faster…and sneakier. I doubled back. Hunted him down. Caught him by surprise." I yawned, suddenly more tired than I could ever remember being. "Damn tree was a lousy shot. Missed me by a mile. I got him in the leg but he managed to get away before I could reach him. Probably blended into the other trees. Caught another one trying to break into the car. Trying to get at Gil. He fired at me. Got my shoulder, see?" I hefted my gun arm and shifted so that Jim could see the funny-looking red stain that had spread all over my light cotton shirt. "Have to throw this shirt away now. Nothing gets out bullet holes. Mind you, I got that tree back. Caught him at the edge of the woods over there. Almost took his bloody head off."

Another look passed between Greg and Jim but this time I was certain they were taking me seriously. "I'll take a couple of men and see what we can find. You stay here with her and try to get her to come out." Jim took off for the woods and soon it was just Greg and me.

"Sara, look, Jim's gone to see what he can find but in the meantime, we've got to get you and Gil out of the car and get someone to look at you guys. You know to make sure you're okay. You did a great job of protecting him but now we can help. Let me help you."

"Okay, okay, one second. Just let me find my other hand." I put the gun down on the seat and started patting around for it. "Oh. Right. There it is," I said after a few seconds. "I left it attached to my other hand," I said, loudly, giving my arm a shake to illustrate my discovery.

"That's great. Now, roll down the window fully."

I sighed and wiped away some of the sweat that was rolling down the side of my face. "Uggghhh…it's so hot in here."

"Yes, I can see that. You're sweating, Gil's sweating. You need to get out of there and we need to get you to a hospital…get things checked out. Roll down the window, Sara."

"Okay, okay, but I don't see how rolling down a window is going to help me cool down." I cranked the handle making the most of the movement and when it was finally done I collapsed back in my seat. "See! Now I'm even hotter."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. I'm sure the hospital will be nice and cool."

"Hospital! Hate hospitals."

"Yes, I know. I know, but we need to find out why…why Gil won't wake up. And we need to get your shoulder looked at." He had slipped a hand inside the door and clicked the lock. The passenger doors opened immediately and an EMS team began their examination of my husband; checking vital signs and searching for internal injuries. Greg had my door wide open now so I swung my legs out of the door and onto the road. Grabbing the door frame gingerly, I pulled myself out of the vehicle and stood on legs that shook. Greg wrapped a hand around my lower back, protesting, "Sara, you really should let someone take a look at you first."

"I'm fine, Greg, just a little tipsy. Probably been sitting too long…or…something…_uh oh_…"


	18. Chapter 18

Follow the Leader

Part XVIII

Opening my eyes took more than a little effort. My lids were so heavy I wouldn't have been surprised if someone had told me they were sealed closed with a heavy layer of cement. The ironic thing about it was when I finally managed to pry them open, I snapped them shut again immediately. The glare from the florescent lights was almost unbearable. I moaned and tried to roll to my side, only to stop when my limbs encountered tubing. "What the…?"

"Watch the language, Grissom. There are ladies present."

I squinted only enough to confirm what my ears had heard. "Catherine. What's going on? Why am I in a hospital bed?"

"That my friend seems to be the question of the day. I can tell you 'who', 'what', 'where', and even 'how' but the 'why' is still under investigation at this moment. We were kind of hoping you might be able to fill in a few of the blanks to help us out." She was quiet for a second. "Your head hurts?"

"It's a step beyond hurt. Would you be able to shut those blinds please?"

"Sure." I could hear her footsteps round the bed and the rustling of the metal slats as she moved to do just that. "Better?"

I tested the conditions by cautiously opening my eyes a little wider. "Yes. Much better thanks." I took a look at my surroundings, noting the isolation facilities and the fact that Catherine was gowned and masked. I frowned, about to ask her to bring me up to speed when I noticed that my room had a second bed and that there was a very still, very pale figure occupying it. "Sara! Is she…? What happened?" I made to get up but Catherine held me in place with a firm hand.

"She's okay, Gil…well as much as you are, anyway. She just hasn't come around yet. The monitors and IV are just a precaution."

"I don't understand." I held my position, watching Sara take a few slow, steady breaths, swallowing the hard little pills of panic that seemed to be lodged in the back of my throat before allowing myself to relax into the mattress once more. She seemed to be okay. Just at rest. "Tell me," I urged Catherine, without taking my eyes off my wife.

"Brass would actually be the better one to talk to but since I finally convinced him to head home, you'll have to deal with me for now. There was a development in the case."

"A development-in the Natalie Freissen case?"

"Yes. Let me start at the beginning. Do you remember our morning meeting at the deli?"

I thought for a moment. The memory was easily reached. "Yes. Clearly."

"Alright. Well, that was two days ago."

"What?"

She nodded, pulling up a seat close to the bed and settling into it. "Yes. Two days. From what we've been able to figure out, you and Sara went back to the lab after our meeting."

"Yes, that's right. We were waiting for that file. We wanted to make sure it was delivered to us personally and didn't go astray. We also needed to do a little research." My eyes drifted towards Sara again.

Catherine leaned in closer pulling my attention back to her. "Right. That's just as we thought. The log at the lab says you signed out around eleven am."

"That sounds about right."

"Then you and Sara left town," she prompted.

I nodded. "Sara arranged a meeting with Deanna and Natalie's mom, Caroline. We were hoping to get some personal insights to give us a few leads to follow."

"Okay, that makes sense. You took a drive out to the Wayburn Estate?"

"Yes. Took us a while. They're fairly secluded."

"Right. Okay. Well, in the time that you were gone from the lab, we had an incident."

"Incident. What happened?"

"The under-sheriff took his own life."

Of all the things Catherine could have said, nothing would have prepared me for that. "You're saying he's dead? Under-Sherriff Mckeen is dead?"

"Yes. He shot himself point-blank. Left a note. Confessed to the murders of both Natalie and Deanna Wayburn."

My head shook in wonder. "I-I don't believe it."

"Don't believe what? The murders?"

"No, I find that easy enough to buy. It's the suicide and the confession I'm finding a little hard to swallow. I wouldn't have thought he was the type to give up like that. He's got a little too much of a 'god' complex going on. I would have bet money that he would have kept fighting us to the bitter end to protect his own interests."

"And the unofficial opinion sides with yours but as of…" she flipped her wrist and pulled up the scrub gown enough to check her watch, "…five thirty pm the official statement on the matter is 'suicide'."

"Incredible. You know I try very hard not to make assumptions until all of the evidence is in but in this case…thanks to our dealings with the under sheriff over the last couple of days…I firmly believed he was the person orchestrating this whole mess."

"He still might be. This might all be over. Everything could be back to normal."

I nodded but my instincts told me not to buy into her theory in any way. "Catherine, I think we'll have to wait and see how things settle. Right now, I'm more concerned about Sara and me."

"There's a whole team of medical experts who share your concern. In fact, I'm sure we'll get a barrage of them flooding in here in a matter of minutes but I needed to speak to you first. There's a couple of things you have to know."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"No, but I haven't got much choice. We've had someone camping out here around the clock so that as soon as you woke we'd be able to speak to you first." She gestured to her attire. "The doctors say that this is just a precaution. You've been quarantined until they can figure out the source of your 'illness' and whether or not there will be any lasting effects but they don't really believe that your contagious."

"Contagious? Illness? What illness?"

She shook her head. "Maybe that's a bad way to put it. Let me backtrack a bit. When news hit the station and the lab that McKeen was dead, one of the first things Brass decided to do was contact you guys."

"To keep us informed or make sure we weren't involved?"

Catherine smirked. "Yes."

I shrugged and smirked back. "I would have done the same had the situation been reversed, especially if I had doubts about whether the life was indeed self-terminated."

"So, needless to say, he was very relieved to find that you guys were nowhere near the lab and hadn't been during the window Doc Robbins gave us for the time of death."

"He did it at the lab? You've got to be joking."

"No. I'm not. He was found in one of the storage rooms in the lower level. You know, the one Archie plays his geek games in?"

I stared, wide-eyed. "When did this happen, Catherine?"

"Doc puts it around noon."

"We were there, Catherine." At her instinctive protest I held up a hand. "No, I don't mean in the lab when it happened. I mean in that storage room…before we left…looking at evidence."

She nodded. "Yes, well, we had figured out you had been…and recently…because there was forensic evidence supporting that. It was one of the reasons Brass was very concerned about getting a fixed location on you guys as soon as possible."

"When was McKeen found?"

"Close to three o'clock."

I ran through the events of that day mentally. "We would have just been getting in the car for the return trip. Sara was driving because I wasn't feeling well."

Catherine practically pounced. "You weren't? What was wrong?"

"Headache. Migraine, actually. It started on the way up to the estate. Sara wanted me to take one of my pills as soon as it started but I didn't want to be excluded from the interview so we made a deal for me to take one after the session was over if I was still feeling ill."

"And were you?"

"Not at first, but the migraine started to build again almost as soon as we got back into the car. Come to think of it, Sara felt much the same. She had a headache going into the interview, was hardly bothered at all while we were at the mansion but I could tell it was starting up again after because her face was a little pale."

"Gil, this is very important. Are you just guessing she wasn't feeling well? Did she say she was experiencing pain again?"

"Catherine, she didn't have to. I know her tells as well as she knows mine. She may not have said the words, but it was written all over her face. She has a habit of squinting when she's battling stress or pain and she was definitely touchy."

"Strange."

"Very."

"We were of the opinion you guys might have been slipped something at the estate but you're saying you felt ill before. You're sure?"

"Positive. Sara and I had a rather heated discussion about it."

"Hmmm." A shadow fell across the window of the door to the room and I caught the tell tale blue of an officer's uniform. Catherine was momentarily distracted by the sight but quickly dove back in with another round of questions. "How much do you remember after getting back in the car?"

"Not much at all. I remember going along with Sara's insistence that I take my medicine without much of a fight. After all, I didn't want the migraine going full force and I knew we had a long drive ahead so it was really the best option. I remember teasing her about her driving and…um…about what Greg told me…and then…well, nothing. Those pills can put me out cold."

"For how long?"

"Usually? About four to eight hours but that's at the outside." I shifted against the hard mattress. "According to what you've said I've lost a great deal more time than that."

"Close to sixteen hours. Never happened before?"

"No. This situation is unique," I murmured.

"This is a standard prescription?"

"Yes. I've had the same one for years."

She assimilated those facts and then tried a new direction. "Was it a new refill?"

"No, I filled it a couple of months ago. They give me six pills at a time. They're fairly strong and generally I take one per migraine. Rarely two doses. Did anyone find my pills?"

She walked over to the wardrobe in the corner of the room and pulled out a plastic container. "Yes, the bottle was in your pocket. There are three pills left."

"Then that's correct. I had a bad headache a couple of weeks ago. Took two then and took one for the car trip on the way home."

She eyed the container. "If you're certain about those facts then that rules out the theory that you got a bad or tainted batch of pills and that Sara took one for her own use." She placed the medicine back in the cupboard and closed the door silently.

"I'm very certain. I keep a close watch so I can monitor my use and when I need to refill the prescription. These pills can have an addictive effect on the user. They work well but they are not without risk. And as for Sara…she won't go near them. You know how she is about medications of any sort."

Catherine didn't respond to my last statement just moved on in her own path. "So, you guys were talking and driving and then you took a pill and went to sleep. That means Sara is the only person that we know of who has any idea what happened on that drive between the time you fell asleep and Greg called her on her cell."

"I suppose so, but if that's the case we're good. There's every possibility that Sara will be able to tell you verbatim the events that passed. That memory of hers is something to behold."

"Normally, I would agree with you but when Greg finally got through to her after several attempts, he was surprised to learn that she was having a great deal of trouble keeping her responses centred on the subject at hand." She folded herself into a nearby chair. "Greg said that he would have sworn she was inebriated but since he's seen Sara drink both Warrick and Nick under the table on more than one occasion, he realized quickly that that couldn't be the case."

It didn't take more than a second to figure out where Catherine was leading with this line of questioning. "Oh crap."

"Yep. After talking with Greg, Brass and I quickly surmised that she was acting much like you'd described after the hijacking so Brass took over the phone call and managed to keep her on the line. Not long enough to trace per say but long enough for us to get an idea of where to start looking for you. I stayed at the lab to oversee things there and Brass and Greg took the helicopter out to look for you guys with a couple of squad cars for good measure. They located your truck about forty-five minutes from the main highway on the back road that led to the Wayburn Estates. According to Brass, Sara was in an advanced state of delusional, heavily armed and determined to defend you, the car and anything else she deemed to be at risk by hefty show of force."

"She was armed? Sara? I'm having a hard time believing that she would pull her gun in that state. She doesn't like guns. She only uses on because it's a necessary part of her job description and she's always handled fire arms with the utmost respect. I know that certain medications can make her extremely unpredictable but I've never would have thought…She's usually really happy but she's never lost control that badly."

"Gil, there's a couple of things you need to understand. Firstly, Sara was acting very threatened when Brass approached the car…very paranoid and protective of you. She'd locked the both of you in an unventilated car and was forcing herself to stay alert. According to Greg, the only reason she lowered the gun and let them into the car was that Brass promised to check out the surrounding area and Greg promised to stand guard over you. She collapsed not long after she opened the doors to the car and let the EMTs get you out." Catherine looked away then and I could see that she didn't want to say anything further but was left with little choice. "Now listen, we don't know exactly what went on…" she stopped, searching for the right words.

"Just tell me the facts, Catherine. I have to know what I'm dealing with here."

She splayed her hands, looking very confused. "That's just it. All I can tell you is what we found but I can't give you any of the circumstances and it…it isn't good, Gil."

"Catherine!"

"Fine. That gun...the one Sara was holding…wasn't hers."

"Shit." My hand fisted against the sheets. I really wanted to hit something. "And I can tell from your expression it wasn't mine either." My brain zipped through a few mental hoops and suddenly I knew where this was leading. "The missing gun. From evidence."

Catherine bit her lip and nodded. "The same one someone tried to plant on her at the townhouse."

"The one you were accused of stealing from the evidence lock up," I added.

"Yes. And Gil, that's not the worst of it."

Again, I could see the path laid out. "How many bullets were missing?"

"Half a round. Sara said that the trees had grown faces and were out to get you." She looked away then and I knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"Come on, Catherine. Drawing this out isn't helping me at all."

She took a deep breath and then said, "We found one body and there's evidence of a chase and a gun battle. We found blood that doesn't match the victim so the working theory is that another person was hit while trying to run away from a shooter."

I felt as if someone had punched me in the gut, then run me over with a car for good measure. "So what you're saying is that officer outside the door isn't there for our protection. He's there to make sure we don't make a break for it."


	19. Chapter 19

Follow the Leader

Part XIX

"…_thanks, Greg. Okay. I will. Bye."_

There were voices buzzing around my head. If I'd had the energy I would have tried swatting them.

"_It's done?"_

That was Gil speaking. He didn't sound too happy.

"_Yes. They've got the truck in the lab garage now. Taking it apart bit by bit. If there's something there, Warrick and Greg will find it."_

And that was Nick. Though he'd pitched his gentlemanly Texan drawl rather low, I'd recognize his voice anywhere.

"_Good. It's the only thing I can think of."_

"_It would go a long way to explain what put you guys out. Now, if Sara would just wake up-"_

I cleared my throat and swallowed with some difficulty. "Um…Sara _is _awake, Nick."

"Hey Sunshine! How the hell are you?"

"Sara, you okay?"

I shrugged back at Gil and Nick, feeling the tell-tale tug of IV tubing and a certain stiffness in my shoulder. "I'll let you know as soon as I can figure out how to use my brain again. God, my head hurts!"

"Hard living, Sunshine. Do it to you every time."

"Nick-" Gil started but I waved him off.

Mouth twisted with a semi-appreciative grin I replied, "Good try, Nicky, but I can smell that sickly sweet antiseptic odor, ergo this isn't a hangover headache. And despite the fact that I can't remember anything else currently, I'm somehow not that surprised to be waking up in a hospital room. Why is that?"

"I don't know exactly but so far you're right on the money. By the way…hospital green? So not your colour, Sunshine."

I opened my eyes long enough to see his square-jawed grin but had to close them again right away. "Hit the blinds, Nick and then come closer so I can clock you for using that awful nick-name."

"Blinds, yes. Closer? Are you kidding?" He strode over to the window to make quick work of darkening the room and I sighed with relief when the light was dimmed. "All jokes aside, good to have you back with us."

"You make it sound like I was away for a while." Finally able to open my eyes, I took a good look around the room and gasped when I saw my husband in a bed the twin of mine. "What the hell?" I had assumed that I was the only one indisposed-that he and Nick we're in my room having a conversation in visitors' chairs or something. Seeing him attached to tubes of his own was a bit of a shock. Seeing Nick garbed head to toe in scrubs was an even bigger one.

"I'm fine, Sara. We both are…at least as far as they know."

The door popped open and Catherine breezed through on the tale end of his comment. "Actually, the official word is that you guys are in the clear…well, at least you are, Grissom." She held up a file and then dropped it on Gil's tray. "Last test came back on you. Nothing abnormal in your blood or any of the other bodily fluids they collected. Quite a difference from the tests they ran when you guys were admitted. It's like you were never exposed to anything." She paused long enough to take a breath, turned to me and gave me a serious look. "You, on the other hand, still have some procedures to endure." She tilted her head, scanning my face and eyes. "You're starting to get some of your colour back and believe me that's a relief because you didn't have that much to lose in the first place."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, Cat. You sure know how to make a girl feel good."

"You're welcome" she replied with a wink trying for a light-hearted smile that didn't reach her eyes. She began pulling off her scrub gown and mask. "They've rescinded the quarantine protocol."

"Thank god. I was beginning to feel roasted and toasted in this get-up." Nick began mimicking her item for item.

"They'll want to take you for some tests too as soon as they realize you're back from Lalaland so we don't have that much time to bring you up to speed."

"Oh good. I was wondering when someone was going to volunteer to do that. I need to know what's going on here." I pushed up onto one arm and almost choked from the stab of pain I got in my shoulder. "Holy crap!" I hissed, flopping back down on the bed. My right hand went instinctively to my left shoulder.

Gil's voice came at me, sounding very anxious and tight. "What? What is it?"

A thick wad of bandages met my questing fingertips and I rolled my shoulder experimentally, nearly swearing again at the intense burn the movement caused. "This feels…feels like…god, what happened? Was I shot?"

Instead of answering me, Gil had tossed back his covers and made his way over to my bed. "Catherine! I thought you said she was okay!"

In danger of being roadkill via IV pole, Catherine quickly dodged right and round the other side of my bed. "Easy, Gil, she is. It was just a through and through."

"Just? JUST?" Gil was barely listening, his hand having replaced mine to check the damage himself. When his fingers pressed a little too hard, I hissed. "Damn. Sorry, Sar."

Catherine's eyes were wide when she continued, "The doctors didn't even have to operate. I guess I forgot to mention-"

"You _forgot_?! You forgot that my wife got shot?"

Nick came to stand at the foot of my bed. "Slick Cat."

The blonde tossed him a glare but didn't waste any words on him. Instead, she went back to 'reasoning' Gil. "Yes, I forgot, okay? There was a lot going on." A look passed between them that made me frown in confusion and then Gil nodded grimly. I was about to question it but Gil spoke first.

"You said she was fine." His tone was calmer now and much more controlled.

Catherine calmed as well, placing a hand on his. "She is fine. The doctor's said there were no complications. Her treatment was very simple."

"Catherine-"

"Gil, I'm sorry. I didn't think and I was so worried about the murder that it just-it just wasn't a huge concern, okay? I'm sorry."

"Murder?" Whoa, that got my attention. "Wait. Catherine? What murder? Gil? Nick?" For the first time in several minutes, there was a deep silence in the room. Nobody was looking at me. Needless to say, I became a little concerned. "Okay, guys, time to fill me in. You're all making me very nervous."

With a tired swipe at the bangs in her eyes, Catherine pulled up a visitor's chair and dropped bonelessly into it. With as much detail as she could manage, she gave me the history of events over the last couple of days and the roles Gil and I had taken in them. Part way through the narrative she paused, holding up a hand as Gil had been about to add something, and then began to ask my input. "Gil says you had a headache, Sara. In the car, on the way back."

"Yes, that's right. We thought it was due to the storm…but since my head is still pounding, I'm guessing that we were off on that one." It wasn't hard to see where this was going. "Were we drugged? At the mansion?"

Catherine shook her head. "That was what we thought at first but now…well now, we're looking at the car."

I blinked. "You think the car drugged us?" The flippant remark rolled off my tongue before I could stop it. "Sorry. My brain is still playing catch up to my mouth. You were saying?"

"We're thinking more along the lines of something in it or on it, possibly. We've got the boys at the lab giving it a good once over."

I looked at Nick. "That's what you were saying when I woke up. That's what you and Gil were talking about as I was coming around."

"Yep," he answered, leaning forward to rest on his forearms. "I just hope we also find something that gives us a clue as to who's behind all of this."

"Back to the headache. Sara, did you take anything for it?"

I shook my head. "Absolutely not. I had to drive. That stuff hits me so hard I can barely walk. We'd probably end up wrapped around a tree if I had to drive." I started to chuckle but it died an instant death when no one else joined in. "Is that what happened? Did I wrap the truck around a tree?"

All three hastened to reassure me. "No, no, you didn't but according to Jim and Greg it was a near thing. They found your truck in a ditch, inches away from a huge barrel of a tree that would have made quite an impact if you hadn't stopped in time."

I closed my eyes, wracking my brain for some recollection of the even but coming up blank. "The last thing I remember is watching Gil drift off…oh…and pushing the speed because my head was really starting to bother me. I'm beginning to think something is really wrong." I deepened my breath, trying to relax enough so that my mind would take me back to that afternoon. "The clouds were really moving in…lightening streaks…thunder…I feel so weird…" I paused, my breath coming in a gasp as an image suddenly flew into my head. "Oh my god! There's the tree! I see it. And Gil…Gil won't wake up. We're stopped. And it's storming. And my head is just aching. Hail. It's pounding on the roof. So loud. And Gil still won't wake up. So, I'm worried, right? And I'm starting to feel really out of it. The rain is just coming down and I'm worried about getting caught in a flash flood so I get out of the car…no, wait, I stick it in neutral, then I get out and try…try to push it out? What? I tried to push the car out? I should have known I couldn't do that. We were too deep. This doesn't make any sense." I stopped dead in my narrative and looked up at Gil. "I have no idea if this is real or not, Gil. It's like I'm watching a movie. I can see it but I feel so disconnected to it. I can't actually remember doing any of this."

"Don't worry about that now, Sar. There's a multitude of reasons as to why that might be the case. Keep going. Just keep going."

"Okay…where was I? Oh…wet. I'm soaked as soon as I get out. And there's a huge bolt of lightening. Scares the hell out of me! I scream…and then I curse. Oh…shit….sorry, Gil."

"What?"

I snickered a little. "I just called you something really nasty. I think I was angry at you for not getting up to help me." I raise my hands, and push, gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder. "We're stuck, Gil. I push and push but we're stuck tight. The truck rocks but won't actually move and my head is splitting." Suddenly my head jerked left. "Lights."

"What?" Catherine prompted. "What was that?"

Eyes still closed I point in the 'direction' of what I'm 'seeing'. "Lights. I see lights. Coming at me. Lots of lights. They're at the top of the hill. I can see them but I know they can't see me. Our lights are off. I'm happy…no, wait, I'm not. Well, I was at first but then…I don't know…the car's coming at us fast. It doesn't feel right. I hide. You know, just in case. By the passenger door. I duck down and the car…no, the Hummer…it was a Hummer…it slows then and stops right by our car."

"Can you see who it is?"

"No, too much rain. I know it's a man. Large build. Large hands. He's got a hat on and a thick raincoat. And he's picking something up off the seat…it's…it's a gun, Gil. He's got a gun!"


	20. Chapter 20

Follow the Leader

Part XX

"Is it a hand gun, Sara?" Catherine asked, her hands gripping the side rails of my bed very tightly.

"Yes." I turn my head towards her with an apologetic, one-shouldered shrug. "Glock, I think. Not sure what issue."

"Glock? Are you sure, 'cause that's not what-"

"Not now, Nick. Just let her speak." Catherine murmured impatiently. "Go on, Sara. What else?"

I wondered at the byplay but I figured I would probably find out soon enough. I let my lids drift slowly closed again. "Um…he's…he's out of the car now. Coming around his vehicle to approach ours. He's hiding his um…his gun hand in the folds of his coat and he's coming at our driver's side door very stealthily. Trying to see inside." The 'mental' me tries to squint through the rain in order to get a better view of his features. No luck. His hat is pulled down over his eyes.

"Where are you through all of this?" Catherine asked.

"I'm still on the other side of the car, watching him through the lower part of the window. Gil's head is sort of blocking me. He hasn't seen me yet. I don't have a good feeling about this. Don't like this at all."

"That makes two of us," Gil muttered.

"He's raising the gun. He's pointing it at Gil and I'm panicking. Totally panicked. I don't have my sidearm."

"You don't have your gun?" Catherine asked urgently.

I think about it hard. "No."

"Where is it?" she asks.

"In the back of the truck, I think," I reply, her tone making me more uneasy by the seond. Why?"

She folds her arms and with a tiny negative shake of her head she says, "I'll explain later. Keep going."

Part of me wants to pursue that other issue but I'm too worried about losing my train of thought so I let it go for the time being. "Alright. Alright. Um…he's about to fire his gun and I know I've got very little time to stop him. Need to distract him. Somehow. I can't let him shoot so I search around for…something…anything I can throw or-"

"Sara, you should have gotten the hell out of there! What were you thinking?"

"Right at that moment? 'Why the hell didn't I take my gun with me when I got out of the car!' And as for leaving you?" A high pitched noise escaped my throat and the sound was anything but funny. "Yeah, Gil, that was an option. Run off and let you get shot. Right. Knew I had to distract him." My mind was already back at the scene. "I-I threw something…was it a rock? Yeah. Big one. But I missed him. Broke the window on the Hummer. But it worked. He's running after me and I…" my head made a slow track to the right, "I take off for the trees."

"Attagirl, Sara. Just what I would have done."

Nick's soft comment earned him a grunt from Gil but that barely registered. I was on the run breathing as hard as I must have been the day of the storm. "I hear a cracking sound. He's shooting at me. There's another. He missed me again. Don't stop. Can't stop. Gotta lure him away from the cars. I-I head for the trees, hoping to lose him. The rain helps. Covers me. The ground is soft and slippery. Almost lose my footing. He's having the same problems. My balance is off." I growl in frustration at what I'm 'seeing'. "I shouldn't be having this much trouble out-running him. I can see that I'm in better shape than he is but…nothing is working right. My head isn't hurting as much but I'm…I'm dizzy. Reaction time is slow. Need to lose him fast." My head snaps up. "More lights."

"More lights-is there another car, Sara?"

"Yeah, Cat. Coming in from…the opposite direction. Small vehicle this time. Can't see what it is. Busy. UGGHHHHH!" My breath caught as I 'feel' the bullet pierce my shoulder. Strangely, I can't remember any pain beside the initial impact. For a second, right there in the hospital room, I feel very light-headed; my body defying gravity until I hit hard as the ground comes up to meet my image in my head. The hospital bed shakes as I 'see' myself drop into the dirt. "This is so…weird! I still feel so strange! It's like I'm there…and…I'm not. And…he's still coming…coming right for me…but I've dropped out of sight. I roll-roll…without even thinking about it into this bush. He's stopped. He's seen the lights too."

"You guys were able to see the lights that clearly? It was the middle of the afternoon."

I shook my head slowly, my mind's eye 'watching' the dark-clothed legs of the man as he stood motionless in front of me, trying to keep my breath shallow and undetectable. "You wouldn't know it from the sky, Catherine. That storm was a monster. Thick black clouds. Probably saved my life because he didn't…see me lying there only…inches from him." My throat is suddenly very dry. I gesture for some water from the nightstand. In near silence, Gil fills a glass and Catherine raises the head of my bed so I can drink it.

Gil brushes a couple of strands of hair away from my face. I capture his hand in mine, pressing my lips to the centre of his palm. It suddenly hits me that this is the second time in the space of a few days that I could have lost him. The realization makes me want to run as fast and as far as I possibly can from Vegas and anything associated with the mess we were currently in. Only Gil's touch keeps me grounded enough to continue. One look into those piercing blue eyes of his tells me he's in much the same place but we don't speak of it. We do what we've been trained to do. We work the 'scene'. "What happened next, Sar?"

"I don't-remember exactly. Someone got out of the other car. The man in front of me fired off a couple of shots." Another deep breath. "Wait. What happened? He's on the ground. Did he get shot? No. He was the only one shooting. Did I trip him? I can see him on the ground. No, didn't trip him. I stood up. He was watching the other person and I stood up and-uhhh." I winced, my eyes popping open. "I kicked him-straight in the back and he went down hard. I thought he was going to get up-I'm in a defensive pose, waiting-but-he hit his head on something. A rock I think. He isn't-wasn't moving. There was a lot…of…blood…He's not moving. I don't remember much else now. I just see him lying there…Gil, he's not moving. Did I kill him?" I look from one to the other of them for the answer. "God, guys, tell me I didn't kill him!"

Catherine gave me a long look and said. "Sara, we did recover a body from the woods but it-it- doesn't match your description. No head wound, at least not like the one you're describing, and though I know he had some contusions, I don't know if he had your boot print on his back. I'll call Al and ask. It wouldn't have shown in the initial exam anyway. It would have been too soon."

"Not like I'm describing? He was wounded but not like that? Then how…?" My mind jumped to an obvious conclusion. "He was shot, wasn't he? What-What are you telling me? Are you telling me I shot him? I didn't! I couldn't have shot him, Cat. I didn't have a gun."

She ignored my protest saying sympathetically, "He had a bullet wound, Sara. Doc Robbins says that was the fatal blow. Back of the skull."

"Maybe the guy we recovered was the other driver." Nick's suggestion made sense and we all nodded along. "Sara said the man who'd been chasing her was armed and firing-"

"Yes, but it doesn't change the fact that Sara was armed when she was found and that the bullet in the victim was a match to the gun she was holding."

"But…how can that be? I didn't have a gun on me!"

"Actually, you did. When you were found you were sitting in your car, armed with the .38 that was stolen from evidence. Not your currently assigned, police issue fire arm but the one you were carrying before the incident in your townhome. You told Brass you'd used it to hunt down 'trees' that were trying to get at you and Gil. He didn't believe you at first but when you wouldn't disarm or let people into the vehicle, he told you he'd send out a team to investigate your story. Apparently, you believed him so you voluntarily lowered the weapon and let Greg and the EMTs into the truck."

"You realize that this makes twice that I've been accused of murder in the last couple of days. Me. Me! It's reallllyyyyy starting to piss me off." Actually, I was more scared than pissed at that moment but I wasn't about to admit it. Anger at the whole situation was the only thing keeping me together at that moment and I was holding onto to it tight. "I just-I just don't understand any of this!"

"Look, Sara, calm down, okay? There's obviously more going on here than we originally thought. You said you saw a second car. Let's just go back to doing what you were doing before. Maybe the answers are there."

"Okay, but Catherine, like I said…I don't know if any of this is-is real. And I-I'm not seeing anything clearly. It's all just blurring into a mess. I mean-"

Nick put in his two cents. "Truth to tell, Sara, your account is the best thing we have to work with right at this moment. So far, everything you've said jives with we know to date. They did find an unexplained blood patch. Catherine's right. Keep going through it. Even if it all turns out to be-" His words were cut off by the ringing of his cell phone. "Excuse me." He keyed open his phone. "Nick here. Yeah. Good. Okay, lay it on me." He paced slightly away from us, listening intently. "Connected where? You're kidding. No, no…actually it makes a lot of sense. Yeah, no I'll tell them. Yeah, Sara's back with us. Fine. Just sore in her shoulder. Yeah, I will. No. No need. Catherine's right here. Okay. Call me with the results ASAP. Yeah. Thanks." He pressed the disconnect and shoved his hands in his pockets as he ambled back to our side of the room. "That was Warrick."

"They found something wrong with the car?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah and then some. There was a thick green canister rigged to the driver's seat. Warrick says it's set up so that the pressure from the weight of the driver depresses the nozzle and releases a gassy substance. The canister is empty now but they think there's enough of whatever was in there to tell us what was used. Hodges will check in when he has it isolated." His dark eyes were deep with suppressed anger. "Someone out there is playing some really sick games."

"It's that bastard, McKeen, Nick. We're pretty sure he's behind everything," I said heatedly. "We just need to dig up enough evidence to nail him. And we're going to. This latest attempt at getting rid of us failed just like the other things he's tried to do to control us. We'll beat him at his own game and I will take personal pleasure seeing him locked away for the rest of his life."

Gil shifted a little closer, cradling his chest on his upper arms. "Uh, Sara, I'm afraid that won't be possible. McKeen's dead."

"Dead? Dead! Oh my god! Don't tell me that that's the guy in the morgue. The man they think I shot."

Catherine shook her head. "No, no. McKeen wasn't anywhere near us during that drive home. He was already dead."

"Good because I don't care how out of it I was I know I would have recognized McKeen if he was the one chasing me through the trees." I swallowed down a mixed batch of emotions not quite sure how I felt about the news of the under-sheriff's demise. "How, Gil? How?"

"Self termination."

My head was shaking before he'd finished his response. "Suicide? I don't believe it."

"That was my reaction too. But unless evidence comes up stating otherwise that is what Catherine tells me is going on the official report."

Catherine nodded in confirmation.

Overwhelmed, I sank back into the mattress. "This case is getting stranger by the second. It puts us back at square one, doesn't it?"

In that understated way of his, my husband replied cryptically. "Not necessarily. If we're lucky it helps clarify a few things."

It was my turn to grunt. "Maybe to your mind it does. All I'm left with are more questions. The only sure thing about his death is that he can't threaten us or restrict us from doing what we feel we need to do to find answers."

"Right," Gil replied, though I have to say that he really didn't seem too confident about his agreement. His face was shuttered tight, an expression every person in the room was familiar with. Gil wasn't going to assume anything until he was able to look at the reports himself. "Look, I'm not really concerned about that end of things right now. If you're up to it, I'd like you to keep going with the events of the other day."

"Okay, but I don't think that there's that much more to tell. I can 'see' myself swaying from foot to foot, waiting for the man to get up but when he doesn't I back away…working my way back to you and the car. I don't-I don't remember anything else after that." My head drops, the weight of it so heavy I can no longer hold it up. "I'm sorry guys. There's just nothing there." I'm so frustrated and angry at myself, my fists clench in the sheets as I struggle for control.

"Hey, Sunshine. Give yourself a break. You've been through a lot here. Maybe your brain just needs a little time to process. Catch a few winks and we'll talk again."

For once that stupid nick-name didn't set my teeth on edge. "Mayber you're right, Nick. Maybe all I need is a little space and quiet to work things out." I pinned a plastic smile on my lips and was about to change the subject but was saved the effort when a nurse came in to take my vitals. Our visitors were dismissed and Gil and I spent the next half hour going through a series of routine examinations and blood work. The nurse even went so far as to remove Gil's intravenous tubing, saying he was on the mend and that they could see no logical reason for him to remain on it.

When it was all over and the nurse had excited the room, Gil turned to me and asked, "How are you really, Sar?"

So many responses to his question filled my head that it was surprising to find that when I opened my mouth this was what I chose to go with. "Lonely, Gil. Very lonely."

"I'm right here with you, every step," he said, rolling to his side to face me."

"Yes, but you're too far away," I told him.

Once again he made the trip across the room to my bedside, this time thankfully without the companionship of the IV pole and gestured for me to roll to my good side. His weight pulled me to the centre of the bed and I fit so neatly in his arms as he spooned my back taking great care not to hurt my injured shoulder.

And when he was where he was supposed to be and I was where I knew I belonged I returned his question. "And how are you, really, Gil?"

"Better now," he said and we drifted off to sleep.


	21. Chapter 21

Follow the Leader

Part XXI

There was a cloud of quiet hanging over the lab…a very tangible, very heavy dark cloud. Some very demented, sick part of me wanted to shout out, "Who died?" but I didn't…probably more because it would be in such poor taste than out of any real respect for the dead. I didn't think too highly of myself at that moment.

Gil and I made slow but steady progress. Our bodies may not have retained any trace evidence of the compound that had been in the containers but I'll guarantee you that our muscles had a clear memory of the abuse they'd suffered. Both of us shared flu-like aches from head to toe and headaches that hovered on the backs of our brains. Though the symptoms were ebbing, it was incredible to me that the passing of twenty-four hours had done little to ease their hold.

Despite the doctor's strong suggestion that we go home to facilitate our recovery, neither of us had entertained the possibility. We'd needed to check in with the lab and the various departments there-in…to see for ourselves what was going on and what was left to do. There was nothing on earth that would have stopped us from doing that first.

"Dr. Grissom…Sara, I didn't expect you in this evening." Judy's normally bright smile was a shade dimmer than usual, but you could see that she was trying to keep appearances up. "I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Thank-you," Gil answered, while retrieving his messages from his in-box. "Anything pressing?"

Judy's smile faded a bit more. "I assume you know about Under-Sheriff McKeen?"

"Yes," I answered, "Catherine filled us in at the hospital. Is there any word on a memorial service yet?" Gil shot me a strange look when I asked the question but said nothing as we waited for a response.

"No. Not yet. I know that his son has been in…he met with Mr. Ecklie earlier today, to discuss procedure and the details of his father's um, death, but nothing formal has been announced. They'll be releasing the sheriff's body in the morning. Dr. Robbins was supposed to have completed his report by the end of shift barring any complications. Maybe we'll hear something then."

"Maybe. Thanks, Judy. See you later."

"Bye Sara, Dr. Grissom."

Gil waited until we were out of earshot before leaning close and saying, "Interesting question you asked back there."

"I thought so. Mind you I'd hoped to get a better answer than the one I got."

"You have no more interest in attending McKeen's memorial service than I do."

"Ah, now that's where you're wrong." We'd reached the door of his office and I took his pile of correspondence while he fished for his keys. "I'm not only interested…I'm determined not to miss it at any cost."

Gil unlocked his door and waited for me to pass through before he followed. "Sara has a plan."

I shrugged, dropping his messages and mail onto his blotter. "A theory at the very least."

"So you don't think that we've seen the end of our problems with McKeen's death."

"No. And neither do you." I plopped into his visitor's chair with a heavy sigh. "Whoa. That took way more energy than it should have."

Gil sank just as heavily into his chair. "Tell me about it."

"Still not as bad as that damn allergic reaction I had after the plane landing, though. Just thought of it can still make me itch."

"That was worse than this?"

I nodded. "On a scale from one to ten, ten being the most miserable…this rates about a six and a half…maybe seven whereas that one was a solid nine."

Gil snorted, shuffling through his message slips, only half listening. "What the hell would you consider a ten?"

Being the smart-ass that I am, I answered without thinking, "Whatever the hell Natalie injected me with combined with a full day hike in the desert."

Gil looked stricken. "Dammit Sara, I'm sorry…I didn't-"

_Shit_. I knew better than to play light with that topic. Four years had passed since that horrible night and Gil still hadn't really come to terms with it. "No…no, Gil, I'm sorry. My brain got ahead of my tongue. My fault entirely." Man, I felt like a perfect idiot. Our stress levels were high enough without adding her into the mix. "Look, why don't I get us some coffee while you see to what has to be done and then we'll go check in with Hodges."

"Yes. Alright. That sounds good."

I sighed. Gil was saying all the right words, but I could tell his mind was somewhere else completely. _Probably searching the desert looking for me._ Guilt tore at me every time I thought about how hard it must have been for him. Guess he wasn't the only one still holding onto to demons about that night. Well, there was nothing I could do about it right then so I trudged down to the break room, filled our mugs to the rim and snagged a couple of triple chocolate cookies that had been left out for everyone to share. A little caffeine and sugar wouldn't hurt either one of us.

When I got back to Gil's office, I found my husband and Catherine in deep conversation. "Sorry, Cat, if I'd known you were here I would have grabbed another cookie."

She grinned. "Had one…actually…two, earlier, but thanks all the same."

"Any news?"

Catherine grimaced and opened the file on her lap. "Some. And before you ask whether it's good or bad, I have to say we won't really know until we understand what it is we're dealing with."

"Great. Nothing like being back in the thick of a mystery." I passed Gil his mug and scooted a second visitor's chair closer to the desk as Catherine had stolen mine. "At least tell me they found out what was in the canister under our seat."

"Hmmm," Catherine confirmed around a mouthful of coffee. "Yes. At least most of it. A drug cocktail of sorts…there was some cocaine, amphetamines, muscle relaxants…I can give you all of the technical names but really, most of it was your garden variety mixer." She passed me Hodges' report.

That hit my sarcasm button hard. "Garden variety mixer…will you listen to her?"

Gil took the paper from my hand and glanced down the list himself. "I am. But I'm more interested in what she hasn't said. 'Most'?"

Catherine's head dropped to one side in an imitation of a shrug. "Well, there's an unknown. A protein of sorts…as far as we can tell. We haven't been able to get an exact match on it."

"And that's probably the item that tipped us over the edge."

"Yes. Our thoughts too." She passed Gil another document. "Our evidence lock up is currently being overhauled by Nick and Greg."

"Why?"

Catherine looked at me this time. "Because when we examined your weapon…the one that had been stolen from the lock-up we found a new partial on the base, just under the trigger. One thing led to another and Nick played a hunch. He printed the evidence file box and found another partial…it's difficult to make a perfect match but Mandy says there's enough markers in common to follow up. Nick's hoping to turn up something else."

"I thought McKeen took it out of lock-up."

"So did I but now…I have my doubts. It's very possible someone was trying to set up McKeen to take the fall for all of this." Catherine swiped a few blonde strands away from her face and shook her head. "This file is getting more bizarre by the second."

"Wait! Wait. Wait. Wait. Let me get this straight. This started off as a missing person's case…which then turned into a murder and now looks to be fully connected with another disappearance and murder. I was set up to think that my husband was involved in a double homicide or that I murdered him and his 'lover' in a jealous rage…the purpose for which we can only assume was to cause confusion and pull his attention away from the cases I mentioned before. The very same cases McKeen was threatening us to stay involved in…" I paused, looking from one to the other in utter disbelief. "Now someone's playing games with our lives by feeding us hallucinogens so that what? It looks like we had an accident and were killed in the process? I'm chasing armed men through wooded areas in a drug-hazed fog…my gun is yet again involved in a possible homicide and the person that was threatening us took his own life? This makes no sense. No sense at all." I fell silent, totally pissed off by the whole thing.

"Actually, hearing it like that…makes me wonder…" Gil closed his eyes, chasing rabbits in his head, as he let his chair recline slightly. Catherine and I exchanged glances. Since neither of us had anything fresh to add to the conversation we waited for Gil to finish his thought. The office was quiet for quite a few seconds so we Gil finally started speaking again, Catherine and I jumped a little in surprise. "Sara, we were saying earlier that we felt like we were being used…pawns in someone's power game."

Expecting something a little more profound after so much thought, I nodded slowly, tapping down on a more snarky response. "Of course. We've been manipulated every step of the way."

"The thing is, we thought that there was one puppet master pulling the strings, right?"

"Yes. McKeen. We all thought that." I looked to Catherine for confirmation and she nodded along with me.

"What if there's actually two power games going on and we're stuck in the middle?"

"One game to find the truth and another to bury it," I said, jumping on his idea and following through. "Yes. Yes, that would make sense. All of these inconsistencies we've been dealing with would-would seem to make a lot more sense. Still brings us back to our original question though, doesn't it? Was McKeen trying to cover up the murders and their connection or was he trying to find the truth?"

"I don't know," he answered solemnly. "Let's hope we can find out before someone else dies."


	22. Chapter 22

Follow the Leader

Part XXII

I stood at the threshold of our bedroom, staring blindly into the room beyond. Once again, there was a metallic…iron-based…taste in my mouth but it was hard to tell if it was being triggered by traces of blood that still clung to the room or by my own sub-conscious. There was definitely a smell of disinfectant. My nose burned from the acidic blend of chemicals the clean-up crew had used on the walls and carpet but there were still traces of cast off on the walls and some of the furniture that no amount of scrubbing could erase. My stomach turned in response.

I felt his presence behind me and I spoke without turning, "They stripped the bed."

Gil placed his hands on my shoulders. "You knew they would. The linens were evidence."

"I don't care about the linens…or the duvet cover for that matter."

"What then?"

"The quilt…the one folded at the foot of the bed. It was a gift, remember? For our wedding. Greg's grandmother made it for us."

"Yes. I remember."

I swallowed. "And there's pieces… cut out of the rug where they…" I turned and buried my face in his neck, my arms winding around his body tight enough to crush bone. "I don't think I can do this, Gil. I just keep seeing you there…"

"It wasn't me, Sara. You know it wasn't me."

"I know now! My head knows all of that now but…but my heart didn't know it then!" I push myself away angrily. "I used to love this room, Gil. I used to love coming in here and closing the door and lying with you under our handmade quilt. And now…now I hate it. I hate what I'm seeing every time I look at the bed. I hate that everything's been touched by strangers…and pawed through…and tainted. Dammit! I want to hit something! It's just like before." I strode away a few steps, my arms a human straight-jacket trying to contain blood curdling unease I felt just being in this room.

"Before?" I could see him trying to figure out the reference. "You mean when your father…died?"

"Yes, then," I answered, shortly. "And after that one time in foster care when the girl who shared my room was killed by that bastard of a 'family friend'." My eyes burned and the back of my neck throbbed. "I hate being invaded like this. It's like you're being victimized twice…first by the bad-guys and then by the investigators because no matter how careful they try to be, they're still going to have to destroy things in order to make things right again. And as hard as those first incidents were, this is worse. I didn't have to live in those places after everything was torn up. I didn't have to face the rebuilding a lot of the victims in our case files have had to face and I've always been grateful for that."

He nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pants and leaning against the door. "There's another major difference too. We chose the things in here…the furniture, the accessories. We decided how we wanted things placed and what made this condo a home to us. Of course you're going to feel this a lot deeper than before."

"I was a child those other times…used to being shuffled around and getting other people's leftovers. It didn't matter so much then." I growled low in my throat. "This sucks."

"You're right. It does," he said simply. "The question therefore is how we're going to get passed this. How are we going to take back our lives? Because, I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little sick and tired of being someone's pawn in this stupid game."

"Me too."

"And I'll be damned if I'll let anyone mess around with us more than can be helped. So much of this case has been out of our control but this…this is something we can turn around and make our own again."

"You're right."

"Look, the malls will be open in thirty minutes. Why don't we go to the store and pick up some necessities. A new comforter, sheets…maybe a throw rug."

I shook my head. "No rug. Let's just toss this one out."

"Okay with me. Some potpourri?"

"Diffusers," I said, decisively. "You'd be surprised how much difference a couple of those will make."

"Do we need to go as far as getting a new bed?"

My heart flipped. "You'd do that? For me? You love this bed."

"Not as much as you."

"Let's try to keep the bed. Besides, it looks as though a new mattress was installed already."

"Yes." Gil wandered over to test it out. "Jim told me there was no saving the other…not that I would have regardless. I ordered this one when you were out getting tests done at the hospital. Greg took the delivery for us."

"I'll have to send him a note." I linked fingers with his. "You know, we could take the guest room for now and shop later. We're both tired and this might be just too much to expect of ourselves right now."

"No. I should have thought about this when I was ordering the mattresses but…my mind was on something else." He leaned down and gave my neck a nuzzle.

"Me? How sweet." I stroked his handsome jaw. "Alright. We could probably get this done in an hour if we're quick about it." I snatched the keys for our rental truck. "I'll drive."

By the time we'd gone to the mall, picked up Bruno from the sitter's, returned home and unpacked everything we'd purchased, Gil and I had only enough energy left to grab a quick shower and hit the sheets.

Wait, that makes it sound simple, doesn't it? The two of us were tired so we just jumped into bed. No, it wasn't as cavalier as that by any means. Even after we installed the new bedding and the air fresheners, my skin crawled at the idea of sleeping in our room but since Gil had gone to so much trouble on my behalf I didn't have the heart to tell him. So…I puttered around the room and tidied while he was finishing up his shower…and waited until the very last minute before I climbed into bed beside him and pulled the covers up to my chin.

I let him kiss me goodnight, in fact put a lot of effort into it hoping it would turn into something more than a kiss but…as I said, we were both very tired and even though I could have really used the distraction of lovemaking, I knew it wasn't in the cards for us this evening. Gil fell asleep, almost right away. With my head cradled on his chest and his right arm wrapping me tight to his side, I listened to his breathing even out and lighten as he slipped away into his dreams. For a long time I lay there in the dark, matching my breaths to his, trying to clear my mind with the focus of a yoga master trying not to start at every click from the air conditioner or every shuffle of movement from the dog. It was ridiculous and stupid and all manner of things beyond crazy but I couldn't help myself. It just was…and I would have to learn to deal.

I guess, eventually, exhaustion got the best of me because the next thing I knew, we were being summoned by the dreaded sound of a cell phone.

We'd been dead to the world for almost six hours so you would have thought that we'd be good to go…but the ringing made us realize that six hours wasn't nearly long enough to make up for what we'd been through in the past couple of days.

Usually, if a phone rings, Gil and I are quick enough to grab it before it gets a chance to ring a second time. Not so today. A third ring went by before I finally said, "It's yours."

"I can't move my arms," Gil slurred back, but then proved that he could when he caressed my back in a soothing manner. "Shhhh. Go back to sleep."

"That's four rings, Gil," I told him, practically purring at the attention.

"My voicemail can get it."

I snorted. "Really? Wow. Never thought I'd hear that from you."

"Shhh. Sleeping." He followed up those words with a loud and very fake snore.

The phone had stopped ringing so I shrugged and rolled over. He scooted in close behind me and we went about the business of catching some more 'zzzzzz's'. For all of ten minutes.

Riiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnngggggg.

"See? See?" he mumbled into my neck. "This is why I don't normally let it go to voicemail. There's no point!"

"You need an unlisted number," I shot back, trying to ignore the rings.

"Don't think the lab would go for that, dear," he replied just as dryly.

"You're not on call tonight. There's no need to have it on."

"Being on-call or not hasn't mattered much of late, has it?"

"No. No, it hasn't." The ringing stopped and he took advantage of the lull to let his hands do a little exploring. Things were just getting interesting when it started up again. It was at that point I lost it. "At least set the damn thing to a music ringtone. It's much easier to ignore. Better yet, turn it off altogether."

"You first," he dared, his hand cupping my breast…his body moving crowding me into the sheets.

"MMMmmmm…Mine doesn't go off nearly as much as yours does. If it did, I would." Another ring. "Ah, hell, Gil. You'd better answer it…or shoot the damn thing and be done with it. It's sort of killing the mood." I yawned, and performed an enormous stretch. "Oh, and while you're at it, make it a short conversation. I don't know how long I'll be able stay awake so…if you want to finish what you started here, you'd better hop to it." I grinned at him, showing all of my teeth and even went so far as to flutter my lashes.

He laughed and answered, "I'll take that under advisement." There was a pause in his movements and I assumed he checked the faceplate because it was still ringing when he said, "Ecklie. Figures." I heard a beep when he connected. "Grissom. Yes. Yes, of course she's here with me. Where the hell else would she be at this hour? Yes, we are usually up by now but circumstances over the last couple of days have…no, no…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be short with you, I'm just tired. We both are and it's our first night back in our home so…right. Exactly. It took us a little while to settle in tonight. No, go ahead. What did they conclude." There was a lengthy pause here and I could hear Conrad's deep voice pulsing through the receiver. "Hmmm. Yes, I can see that it would. Yes. Immediate attention. No, I'm not concerned about that. Not in the least. Yes. Yes, that's exactly what's bothering me. This just keeps getting messier and messier. Right. Okay. Thanks, Conrad. Yes. Later on this evening. Okay. We'll be there." He snapped his cell phone closed and sunk back into the bedding.

I waited for him to say something and when he didn't, I rolled over in concern. "So that was Eckle?" I asked, just to get the ball rolling.

"Yes."

"McKeen's memorial?" I guessed.

"Set for two pm on Wednesday."

"Day after tomorrow."

"Yes."

"Well, that's good. Give us some time to prepare." I curled into his shoulder. "Anything else?"

Gil's jaw tightened. "They matched the bullet from the man in the woods to your service revolver."

"The one that stolen from lock-up. Yes, I know that. Catherine told us that already. No news there."

"But the identity of the victim is."

"Uh oh. Who?"

"The security guard…from the Wayburn Estate."

"Mitchell?"

Gil nodded. "Ecklie wants us in for a consult first thing. Seems he's having a little trouble keeping IA out of this mess."

"Internal affairs?! Shit. Forgot about them. And I guess Ecklie's just throwing me to the wolves."

"On the contrary, I get the distinct impression that he's trying to keep them at bay. That's one of the reasons he wants this consult ASAP."

"Consult? Ha. You mean interrogation," I grunted and swiped the covers off angrily as I got out of bed."

"Sara-"

"Don't. Just…don't." I paused mid-stride, my hand braced on the frame of the bathroom door. "Look I know that this isn't as bad as it could be-and Conrad, he's just following procedure but-I'm allowed to be mad all the same, okay?"

"Sure. Okay."

"I'm going to shower, do a little swearing at the tiles and maybe shadowbox a couple of demons. The rush of the water should cover the resulting noise of my hissy-fit. Maybe then I'll feel a little more human."

Gil smirked. "I'll start the coffee," he said, decisively. He crawled to a stand, did a couple of bone-popping stretches and scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "That way, if you need to drop kick a few IA reps today, you'll have the stamina to follow through."

I smirked back. "MMM…coffee. My hero! I love you, you know."

"And here I thought you were just using me for sex." He winked-actually winked at me-and then sauntered out of the room without another word, leaving me giggling at his silliness. Suddenly, coffee sounded much better than swearing at the tiles and continuing this conversation…a lot more interesting than shadow-boxing. I left my post and joined my husband in the kitchen.


	23. Chapter 23

Follow the Leader

Part XXIII

I leaned back against the elevator hand rail, watching the numbers blink as we passed the various floors. "It's weird."

"What is?"

I shrugged. "I don't remember the last time that we were both this early for shift. It feels weird."

"I remember."

"Yes?"

"It was a month or so before we got married. We thought we should have the courtesy to tell Ecklie in person."

"Oh. Yeah. You're right." The thought of that meeting made me grin. "We thought he would give us hell about it, right?"

"Yes."

"But he didn't did he?"

"No, he seemed to be genuinely happy for us. Even met us for drinks with the rest of the gang after shift."

"Yes, he did. I remember being totally surprised by his easy acceptance of the whole thing." I could see his face even now as he shook Gil's hand. "Frankly, I think he was just happy to have the whole thing made official. Easier on all fronts, I would think."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, in order to make our marriage work in a professional capacity, I pretty much had to accept the supervisor position he'd offered me which meant that I wasn't officially in the field all the time and technically, not really his responsibility any more. Yes, I still answer to him in one respect but I'm sure I don't give him half the headaches I used to and even better, he doesn't have to deal with my fallout. Until…now…that is."

"Let's not borrow trouble."

"That's hardly apt, Gil. Borrowing implies something will be returned. So far, we're the only ones who've been on the receiving end." The elevator doors flashed open and we emerged from solemn quiet of our cabled, steel cocoon to the ruckus of raised voices shouting over each other for dominance.

We glanced at each other, utterly at sea over the strange and unusual disturbance and approached the reception area with a fair degree of caution. "Judy?" No response from our receptionist. "Judy?" I asked again and this time got her attention.

"Sara! Dr. Grissom. I didn't realize you'd come in." She looked a little flushed, obviously embarrassed to have been caught eaves dropping as she was.

Gil collected his messages and mail, tilting his head in the direction of the racket as he did so. "Sounds serious down there."

"It is. They've been at it for almost forty minutes now."

"'They'?" I questioned, too caught up in the moment to 'pretend' to be casual like Gil. As if he could read my thoughts, he looked up at me with a sly glint in his eyes. I almost laughed in appreciation. Judy missed the byplay entirely. " Oh yes, Captain Brass, Supervisor Ecklie, Catherine Willows…the two agents from the FBI…the IA rep…gosh, I think even Greg Saunders is in there. Oh, and um…the ah, Under Sheriff's son…" she drifted off with a shrug, and I could tell that she was wondering if she were speaking out of turn.

Gil caught her discomfort right away. "We may not have known who the two Federal agents were, but everyone else would have been known to us right off."

I leaned in on her counter in a chummy way. "Any idea why Ecklie's playing host to such an eclectic group?" I had a good idea but it didn't hurt to ask just to be sure.

"Well, they're having a…difference of opinion."

"About?"

"Well, you…and Dr Grissom…oh, and the ceremony tomorrow for the Under-Sheriff."

"I figured about the first part, but why are they at odds about the ceremony? I thought everything was set up to go."

Judy frowned, obviously perturbed not to be on top of things. "I'm not exactly sure. I couldn't hear anything at first and when the shouting started everyone was yelling over top one another. It's hard to make out anything other than the occasional name the way they're going at each other."

"Well I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. Thanks, Judy." I snagged my messages and stuffed them in my tote without even giving them a glance.

"You're welcome," she replied, her attention already drifting back to Ecklie's 'conference'.

Gil and I walked towards the din with measured steps. "You know, one part of me's very curious about what's going on but another part…" I shook my head. "Maybe, if we wait long enough, they'll resolve all of the problems without us. Send us a memo about the outcome."

Gil, being Gil, played devil's advocate as if I'd been serious about my suggestion. "Then we'd have to send a memo back, stating whether or not we agreed with the outcome and that would get another back in reply…which let's face it, will probably end up in another meeting just like this one so….let's drop our things in our offices, grab some coffee and get this the hell over with so we can get on with more important things, like running the lab."

"Put like that, I have to admit your way sounds the lesser of the two evils. Plus it has that coffee incentive…so, yep, you win."

Ten minutes would pass before we found ourselves outside Ecklie's door. We were still early for our pre-arranged meet time with the lab supervisor but like Gil had said, we both had a vested interest in getting this behind us. I rapped my knuckles against the frame and for the first time since we'd arrived at the lab, everyone grew silent and turned their heads to the door. Conrad, who had been on his feet, hands braced on his desk, straightened from his defensive pose and looked almost happy to see us. "Gil, Sara, you're here. Good. Maybe now this conversation can move forward rather than round and round in circles as it has been."

"Who are these people?" a middle aged man in an expensively tailored suit asked. His face sported a thick, mustard blonde mustache and bushy eyebrows of the same tint that reminded me a little of Yosimite Sam in style. His manner was every bit as aggressive as the cartoon villain as well. "Are these the people at the centre of all this controversy?"

"Yes, yes," Conrad answered irritably. "Agents Steven and Nash, meet Dr. Grissom and his wife, Sara Sidle-Grissom. They've had a difficult go of it in the last week."

Stevens gave Ecklie what must have been the Federal equivalent of an 'eye-roll' and pounced. "Perhaps not difficult enough considering the fact that they are both implicated-"

"They're being set-up!" Brass jumped in, his face a little florid. "Damn it, get off it will you? It's been a set up from the start."

"And you have in contributable proof of their innocence, Captain?"

Catherine took that one on. "Not yet, but we will."

"Besides, we know these people," Brass continued, trying to gain some modicum of control.

"Perfect. An excellent response to the accusations of 'cover-up'. We know these people so we're certain they didn't do it. Like that's going to fly," the agent tossed back making absolutely no effort to be professional. "Four dead bodies and that's the best you can do?"

Ecklie tried to make some headway. "For now, Stevens. We need a little time."

"To what? Cover your tracks?" Stevens fired back, not willing to give an inch.

Ecklie was about to respond but the Internal Affairs representative raised her hand and spoke for the first time since we came into the fray. "That's enough. I expect everyone here to take their seats and start acting with a little decorum or this 'meeting' is over with here and now." For a moment I felt sure that Agent Stevens was going to stand his ground but to my surprise, he sat, albeit grudgingly, when she said, "Allow me to remind you that you are in attendance here out of a professional courtesy we've extended to you and your partner. Should your presence preclude us from continuing our examination of these matters, you will be asked to leave and be left out of the discovery process completely." Others followed his lead and soon the fractious energy in the room had dissipated to a much more tolerable level of intensity. Only she remained standing.

I have to admit I was surprised that our IA rep had that sort of control over these proceedings but I was wise enough to keep my mouth shut until I heard what she had to say.

"As I was saying before you and your group entered this office un-announced, Internal Affairs is watching over this case with due diligence. Every effort is being made to assure that all the evidence is being processed properly and that the reputations of the people involved are being protected until all vital information is recorded and examined. I realize that we have in our possession material evidence and reports that you and your colleagues need to have access to and I am willing to make concessions to aid you in your efforts but not at the expense of this lab's reputation and well-fare. There is a possibility of substantial fallout in this matter, gentlemen, and it is my duty to make sure the impact to the lab is as minimal as I can possibly make it. We have to keep sight of the big picture here. If evidence continues to come to light with regard to McKeen's…after hours activities and connections…and the news goes public pre-maturely…every case that the lab has worked on during his term in office will be open to scrutiny. That is something I'm sure none of us want to contend with. This information will be verified, checked and re-checked before anything is released from this department to any others. Too many lives and sensitive materials are at stake." After having said her piece to the agents, she turned to Ecklie and said, "I'll expect a full report at close of shift." She started for the door pausing at the threshold to say, "Agents Stevens and Nash, if you'll come with me to my office, I will be glad to give you an over-view of the evidence we have verified so far and the current state of our investigations. We can also discuss your concerns, Mr. Mckeen." With that she left and the other men had no choice but to follow in her wake.

"Wow," Catherine said. "I wanna be her when I grow up. What was her name again?"

"Elizabeth Allen."

Catherine grinned. "I had no idea IA had that much control."

Conrad Ecklie shook his head. "Normally, it doesn't but in this case…oh, hell. Let's just say that some information has come to our attention since the passing of the Under-Sheriff that has everyone in our department digging in and frankly…there aren't many people I know that are willing to go up against Elizabeth Allen in a fight over jurisdiction and due process. Not only is she absolutely brilliant but she's got both a law degree and a master's in criminalistics. Add a serious ethical streak and a temper to match and you've got a combination that would terrify anyone stupid enough to get on her bad side."

"So are we?" I asked, determined to get to the point of this meeting.

"On her bad side?" Conrad chuckled. "Not yet. She's…how did she put it? She's 'concerned' about the vagueness of certain details surrounding the incidents you've both been involved with so far but she believes as we all do that there is something much more complex working in these matters and that you two are unfortunately caught in the middle. However, I have been informed that should it turn out that the evidence starts to turn out to be anything more than circumstantial, she will be on the two of you like flies on honey. Her words, not mine," he said with a broad grin.

"Well that's a relief, I suppose," I said, looking at Gil for his agreement.

"Yes, it is," he said. "Conrad, what was all that talk about McKeen's after hours activites? And what exactly is the FBI's interest in this investigation?"

Conrad picked up a pencil and balanced it between his fingers. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to disclose any information on that area at this time. However, I don't think it will be long before those details are released."

"So that's it then?" I asked.

"For now. If you haven't started doing so, I need you two to put together a log of activities and incidents…anything related to these cases and what you've been involved in. Every detail you can remember…both from a professional stand-point and a personal one. Depending on how this all settles out, that log might be important. That goes for the rest of you too. Pay particular attention to the details about McKeen's interactions with you." Conrad's eyes glittered with a fire that at first I had a hard time interpreting but later realized had seemed almost predatory. It was an expression I'd only seen occasionally from Ecklie and I wondered at it because it really seemed to me that he had as much a personal stake in this mess as we did. For all we knew, he did.

We all nodded our agreement and filed out of his office, more than a little confused by the turn of events. Without verbal consensus, we somehow ended up in Grissom's office with the door closed for privacy, and held our own little impromptu meeting.

"I was surprised to see all of you here. Sara and I were under the impression that we were being called in for a private meeting with an IA rep."

"I'm sure that was the original intent, Gil," Catherine said, helping herself to a bottle of water from Grissom's mini fridge. "But we got wind of a possible ambush and decided you two might need some back up."

"I don't understand," I said, downing a little of the luke-warm coffee that had been sitting in my mug for close to thirty minutes.

"Let's just say that the office grapevine is alive and kicking," Greg said with a smirk.

Gil wasn't satisfied with that. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, Conrad got wind of an impending invasion from the FBI and decided to call in a little extra fire-power to keep control in our hands rather than theirs." Catherine winked at us then. "We were only too happy to comply."


	24. Chapter 24

_Follow the Leader_

_Part XXIV_

"Okay, well, someone's going to have to catch us up," I said, settling into the sofa beside Gil. I pulled at my cotton blouse trying to masque my confusion over what we'd just witnessed. "I'm afraid we arrived for the end of the fireworks."

"Conrad said he couldn't fill us in right now, but assuming one of you can, would you do the honors?" Gil asked, obviously as perplexed as I felt.

Jim nodded gruffly and cleared his throat. "There's a lot of finger pointing going on, Gil. Even though the lab has had to take the official standpoint of ruling McKeen's death a suicide, there are several parties who believe that it was anything but."

"And none of those parties," Catherine added, "agree on who might be behind the under-sheriff's murder."

"I need to take a look at that file, Catherine," Gil muttered grimly.

"There's a copy in the top drawer of your desk. Thought it best to play close to the vest if you get my meaning," she replied and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Officially, that copy in your desk doesn't exist, capiche?"

"Details, people," I entreated them. "Don't leave us hanging. Obviously we-" and I gestured between Gil and myself, "-are subjects under scrutiny. Who else?"

"Wait, before we go any farther, who's pushing that angle?" Gil wanted to know.

"Murder? McKeen's son," Brass replied.

Gil considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Okay, I can see that. Did he bring in the FBI?"

"No," Catherine said, "They're here for a different reason but since they believe the entire department is corrupt, they're certainly not in your corner."

"Their interest remains primarily in McKeen Senior's associations outside the lab and their possible infiltration into the main body of personnel."

Brass' words were weary. It was easy to see that this had been a very long shift for him and yet for all intents and purposes it had just started. My brain did a few mental connect the dots and I blurted, "They think he was involved in what-? Mob activities? Drug running?"

Brass nodded. "Prostitution. Extortion. You name it." Our New Jersey implant laughed humorlessly. "Turns out our fearless leader had some friends in low places."

I snorted. "Well, there you go. I knew there was a reason I didn't like that man."

"So where does this leave us, exactly?" Gil asked.

"The department and Ecklie are behind you guys. In other words, they believe that you are in the middle of a set-up though there are differing points of view as to the reason behind all of these crazy, after hours activities you've been involved in lately. " Greg wiggled his eyebrows for effect. "Speaking of which, if you two could pull that stuff in a little, everyone here would be grateful for the respite. We do have other cases pending, you know."

Gil grunted but I replied dryly, "We'll do our best."

"Internal Affairs seems more than willing to back you as well as long as nothing comes to light to make them change their minds." Catherine shrugged. "But then what else would you expect?"

"Well, I walked in here expecting totally the opposite," I said. "After all it was the stolen weapon…my original side arm…that was linked to the murder on the highway. I thought I'd be fighting off accusers left, right and centre."

Greg leaned his elbows on his knees, steepling his hands. "You would have been had the under-sherriff not admitted to breaking into the evidence lock-up and various other crimes. That combined with the deliberate tampering to your vehicle, the serious run-ins you've both had…your reputations on the force…well, there's just too many conflicting factors for anyone to dismiss the possibility of a set-up out of hand. The only evidence we have linking you to those deaths is so…so obvious...a greenie would take a second look without even thinking."

"A lot of this has seemed…amateurish, hasn't it?" I wanted to continue in that vein but my mind was still circling the field and refusing to land on any one spot. I settled for adding, "The minute we're done here, I want to take a fresh look at the evidence logs. I wasn't really…um…focused on it at the scene. Oh, and I want to see that file too, Gil."

"We'll make it priority," Gil replied and went back to the previous topic. "The FBI?"

"Are out for blood. Anybody's. They're not that choosy," Brass said.

"Why?"

"Seems they've been following McKeen for a while now. He is…was…their lynchpin in several ongoing investigations. They were getting ready to close in. Apparently there was a big meeting scheduled for several key personnel involved and they were depending on McKeen to lead them right to the big wigs. His death put a crimp in their plans." Brass shrugged. "Whatcha gonna do?"

"And that's where McKeen Jr fits in," Catherine said. "While it's true that he didn't call in the FBI, he's certainly quick to take advantage of their interest to muddy the waters. "

"How's that?" I asked.

Catherine sighed. "He's here, or so he states, out of concern for his father's reputation. He claims the suicide was murder and though he has more or less laid the blame at the hands of the mobsters the FBI have been watching, he's not overlooking the fact that you two had a strong motive to take him out if you'd had the opportunity to cover up whatever it is you're involved in." She held up a hand as I began to protest. "His words, not mine, Sara. He says he's determined to see that his father gets the proper burial and recognition the under-sheriff deserves after his many years of service to this city and that his name gets cleared completely from any and all accusations of wrong doing."

"Okay, um, I'm not sure I'm getting this. Surely the FBI disputed his claims, right? I mean, they wouldn't be here, butting in, unless they were pretty sure that they had his father dead to rights." The convoluted wrapping of what was once a 'simple' murder was beginning to tie me in knots. I certainly had the feeling that I was standing on the sharp, slippery tip of a gigantic Iceberg, trying to keep my balance. Who knew what was waiting for us under the surface.

"Yes," Catherine answered, "but he's resolute in his belief that his father is being vilified here. He wants an independent investigation into his father's death as well as an independent review of all of the evidence the FBI has collected with regard to his father's case."

I snorted. "Yeah, like that's going to happen. The FBI can be rather inflexible when it comes to their files."

"Well, now that you two are up to date, I have a lab to run." Catherine eased off her chair and straightened her clothing. "Are you two attending the memorial?"

"Yes. Sara feels it's important for us to be there."

Jim nodded and rose. "I'll second that. It might prove to be of some interest to us all."

"I'm due in Trace," Greg said, holding up his phone and displaying a text message from Hodges. "I'm attending the funeral as well. See you then if not before."

Our trio of friends exited, leaving us alone in Gil's office , each of us lost in our own thoughts. After a moment, I turned to look at Gil saying, "You know, maybe we've been coming at this backward. "

"How's that?" he asked.

"Well, we managed to figure out the connection between your two cases…the girls were related, we think the one sister was trying to use the video tape to either connect with or uncover her sister's murderer. We've also connected the McKeens to the Wayburns but…okay, how do I explain this? Um, we haven't really figured out why the McKeens were involved with the sisters in the first place. Do you see what I'm getting at?"

"Sort of," Gil responded, "but go on."

"I don't know. I guess I'm curious as to how they met…how Deanna and Jeff Jr met and became engaged. Did they run in the same circles? Were their families long time friends? Did Jeff and Deanna attend the same schools? We've been examining this from the sisters' point of view but now I'd like to look at it from the other end." I cleared my throat and folded my arms. "I want to set up an interview with Jeff McKeen Jr."

Gil was already shaking his head. "I don't see how that's really possible, Sara. I mean, there's every possibility that he would refuse to see you on principle and I'm sure Ecklie and IA would have something to say about that type of a meeting."

I could feel my forehead pinching into a frown. "Yes, I know. I already thought of that. Doesn't stop me from wanting to try it to spite them."

"I really don't think that it's a smart idea."

He didn't have to convince me. I knew it was a crazy idea but something in my gut told me that Jeff Jr was at the crux of this mess. "Just saying." Yeah, maybe setting up a face to face was a bad idea but…if the opportunity presented itself…I might be able 'bump' into Jeff Jr during the memorial.

The rest of the shift was fairly routine. Gil and I spent time not only looking at the file Catherine had slipped us but catching up on the bits and pieces that were necessary in making a lab like ours run. While it was true that normally I found the process of completing paperwork soothing, that night I was just too restless to settle into it. I kept thinking about the connections between the various players we'd met in the course of this investigation and the position we now found ourselves in.

Gil and I were in a kind of waiting game. We weren't in a position to make any decisions or move on with any of our plans until one of the other players made a move first, so for us it pretty much had to be business as usual. While it was true that the waiting lacked the desperate tension of the past week and a half it was no less threatening. We were at a virtual standstill…at least until new evidence presented itself. Catherine's file contained little more information than we'd already gathered with regard to Deanna and Natalie's murders though it did shed some light on the undersheriff's 'suicide. The confession had been printed off a unit that CSI had determined was offsite. Since that unit had yet to be located and the obvious places such as the McKeen's residence, office and other such locations had been ruled out, it was a detail that was disturbing. Photographs of the body and the positioning of the gun post mortem had raised questions as to whether the resting spot of the weapon could have ended in the place it had been found. There was always the possibility that the weapon could have hit something on the way down or…bounced…but the team that had gone through the scene hadn't been able to prove to their satisfaction that that was indeed what had happened. Doc Robbins' initial medical exam differed slightly with the one he performed at the request of McKeen Jr two days later. Bruises and contusions had appeared in multiple places on the corpse, and while these markings weren't conclusive evidence that the undersheriff had been assaulted immediately prior to his death, they didn't rule that possibility out either. Suicide remained the official ruling in the matter of the undersheriff's death but Doc Robbins had made a new entry of his latest finds and the possible implications of said findings should any other evidence come to light.

Needless to say, that report did little to help my concentration.

It was nearing four am when I caught sound of my name being mentioned from somewhere down the hall. I stirred from my reclined position and pulled my attention away from the study I'd been making of the minute hand on my wall clock and walked over to my door to see who it was that was asking for me. "Mrs. Wayburn? What are you doing here…at this hour?"

The woman in question turned away from the technician who'd been giving her directions and approached me directly before speaking. "Mrs. Grissom. I know, it's strange my being here…but, I took a chance. I needed to see you and the desk said you worked the nightshift…" she drifted off, looking so lost for a moment that I had a hard time recognizing her as the woman we'd met with only a few short days ago. "Is there a place we could talk…privately?"

I jerked to attention, surprised I hadn't offered before she'd asked. "Yes, of course. My office is just through here." I led the way and offered her a seat, closing the door behind us. "Can I get you something? Coffee? Water?"

"No, no, I'm fine, really. I don't want to take up too much of your time. I just-I just-didn't know…" A tiny, gasping sob escaped her throat and I promptly snatched a couple of tissues from the box on my filing cabinet and pressed them into her hand.

"Take your time, " I told her kindly, not really all that surprised by the display of emotion. She had had a difficult week. It was a wonder she was functionally rationally at all.

She shook her head, waving off my sympathy with some urgency and then leaned forward in her chair. "I needed to speak with you…to ask you…"

Again she paused, but I had a terrible feeling I knew where her words were leading. I decided the right thing to do would be to help her along. "You're here about Mitchell."

She nodded, her eyes tearing, unable to do more.

I reached a hand across my desk…I couldn't help it…and did a mental sigh when she placed hers in my palm. "I'm sorry. I should have called you. I was in the hospital when I heard the news." I didn't elaborate farther. Until all of the details surrounding Mitchell's death were sorted out, there was no need to add to her torment.

"No one will tell me anything, Mrs. Grissom. I'm not family…well, not by blood, but there is no one else. Mitchell didn't have any close relations other than his half brother and they weren't on the best of terms."

I firmed my lips, knowing all too well how difficult it would have been for her to get any information on her employee's death. "I'm afraid the matter is still under investigation. We were able to determine his identity and the cause of his death but we don't know any concrete about the circumstances involved. But maybe, you could help with that. Do you know why Mitchell was out driving in that storm?"

Mrs. Wayburn sniffed and shook her head slowly. "I hadn't even realized he'd left the grounds until later that evening. If you remember, during our interview, he excused himself?" When I nodded, she went on, "He was out in the garden, sitting on a bench, speaking on his cell phone."

"Do you know who he was speaking to?"

"No. He hung up when I got close. Anyway, we exchanged a few heated words and he stalked off across the grounds. He must have circled back to the garage and went out for a drive. No one can recall seeing him between our argument and dinner. It was then that we noticed that he wasn't on the estate."

"Do you mind me asking why you argued?"

She swallowed and looked up. "I suppose it doesn't matter now. It wasn't so much an argument as a difference of opinion. He hadn't liked the fact that I had asked you to come to the estate."

"And why is that? You said that he cared a lot for your girls. I would have thought he'd be interested in knowing what happened to them."

"Yes, well, that was my opinion too until I found out differently. I suppose I should have mentioned your call right after we spoke," she said, with a tiny little frown. "Mitchell would have said his piece and I might have thought twice before bringing you out."

"Really? His objections were that important?"

"Well, yes. He was afraid that your investigation would undermine his father's." For a moment, she looked lost again, but then gathered herself and words began to fly from her mouth. "I don't know all of the details and there was such secrecy surrounding Deanna's murder and Natalie's disappearance. No one would tell me anything for fear I would…" She let go of my hand then and leaned back. "I have a heart issue. Certainly not as delicate a condition as I and others were led to believe when one considers everything I've had to deal with recently, but it is a concern that my family and I took seriously. No one wanted to…they were all very cautious to make sure that I received only the news that was pertinent and validated. You see, Mrs. Grissom, after Deanna had disappeared, our lives were turned inside out. She was a very public figure. Always involved in this charity and that cause. Her disappearance took everyone by surprise. Our lives became a circus. No one had any privacy. No one had any peace. We were hounded by the terrible rumors and the false hopes of those greedy enough to want the reward we offered for information but could have cared less for the truth…I don't know how we got through it. It did get easier for a while…but then, we were told…we got the call that they'd found her. Murdered. I couldn't…I didn't fair very well at first. I took a bad turn, you see. But there were still the questions, you know. I didn't have a choice but to deal with it all. Finding her seemed to stir everything up again because of the violent manner in which she'd died. Our friends and family-well, what was left of it-they tried to help…they built a wall around Natalie and me…for protection from the media and all the ugliness…oversaw the investigation personally…but it still managed to reach us, didn't it? Natalie…"

She looked so hurt and so small. I had a hard time remembering when another person's suffering had affected me so deeply. Very quietly, I asked, "His father's investigation? I wasn't aware that there was another person conducting an inquiry into your daughters' death. You didn't mention it when I called." When she didn't seem inclined to comment, I continued, "Can I have his name? He might have information we haven't-" Mrs. Wayburn was shaking her head negatively before I could finish the sentence. "What? What is it?"

"I can give you his name but I'm afraid it would do you very little good. He…he died a few days ago." There were fresh tears then, keeping her from going on but I knew…I knew in my gut…where this was leading before she said it. When she finally cleared her throat to try again, my suspicions were confirmed when she said, "Mitchell's father is-was-in law enforcement. You might know him. Jeff McKeen. Senior. He's-he was the undersheriff for this district. He-He passed away earlier this week. It's one of the reasons I'm here now. I'm attending the memorial service later on today."


	25. Chapter 25

Follow the Leader

Part XXV

I looked at her...stared at her for several heartbeats, hardly believing she'd said the words even though I knew we were about to head down that path. I don't think she noticed. She stared at the tissue in her hands, wringing it, twisting it, so deeply involved in that action that I wondered briefly if she'd forgotten my presence. I know she jerked when I spoke and seemed to be more than a little startled when I said, "Jeff McKeen Sr. Of course. I've...worked...with him on more than one occasion. In fact, I spoke to him...that day...just before...before we came out to visit you."

"Really? Then maybe you know...oh, I suppose you probably can't tell me..."

"Perhaps...I will if I can," I replied, trying to keep her talking.

"I was going to ask if you knew...if he told you why he was here at the lab when he'd told me that he was going to be in Los Angeles."

I shook my head. "No, I'm afraid he didn't mention it at all. He told you he was going to LA?"

"Yes. He claimed he had a lead on Natalie's um...that there was a suspect...related to the video. He called the night before to let Mitchell know that he was heading out of town. He'd asked if Mitchell was interested in joining him but Mitchell didn't want to leave me alone in case...there was...bad news so he declined the offer."

A gentle tear slipped down her sweetly weathered cheek. "At the time, I was so relieved Mitchell had decided to stay but now...considering...oh, why hadn't they both gone?" Another tear fell. Then another. "I have no one now, Mrs. Grissom. No one. What point is there...what point is there in any of this?"

In my line of work, I knew from hard earned personal experience that to allow oneself to get personally involved with a victim's problems was dangerous and potentially emotionally damaging. I knew that. Specifically, my head knew that...but when had that ever stopped my heart? I defy anyone with an inkling of emotional depth not to have been touched by this woman's pain. I wanted to comfort her so badly. I wanted to come out of my chair and embrace her but I knew better. I did...so I settled for reaching out a hand; a hand that she clutched like a life-line. And if she was drowning...well, then, I was sunk. As her sobs shredded me, I wallowed in guilt so it was all I could do not to tell her what our investigation had uncovered so far. For all I knew I might have fired the bullet that killed the very man she was now grieving. It was too much to deal with so I struggled to hang onto the idea that there was also every possibility I hadn't fired the killshot and redoubled my efforts to move the case forward.

"You're not alone, Mrs. Wayburn. I'm here. I haven't given up. Neither has my husband or any of the investigators on our team. We're still searching for answers and I promise you...personally promise you...that as soon as I know something definite and...confirmed...that I will let you know immediately. The fact is that we just don't have any certainties yet. But we're still trying so you're not alone. And we're not the only ones looking for justice. Your...I mean, Jeff Jr was just here, just as determined to see that he gets the answers he needs in both the Under-sheriff's death and your daughters' murders. He seems to be grieving much the same as you. You still have Jeff Jr., don't you? Why don't you call him? It might help."

"Jeff Jr.?" She sniffed, pulling back. "No. No I don't think so."

"Are you sure? It's not a bother. He was here earlier tonight. He may still be here for that matter as there were a lot of details he was overseeing for the memorial. I could call reception-"

"No. No, thank-you. I'm sure he had much to see to. I'm sure he's far too busy to be bothered with me." I suppose my surprise must have shown on my face because she elaborated, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Grissom. I'm sure this must seem a little strange to you but Jeff...Jeff was never quite the same after we found Deanna. And I think he found it...difficult to be around us...and her things...her ,memories...well, we sort of lost touch with each other."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"In fact, I don't think we've exchanged more than a few sentences since Deanna's funeral. He used to be such an engaging young man, Mrs. Grissom. I remember the first time Deanna brought him home...to the estate...so charismatic. So handsome. I remember thinking that here was a young man who really knew who he was...what he wanted...and he was so in love with my Deanna. They met at school, you know."

I shook my head. "No, I didn't." I smiled, encouraging her to continue.

"Yes. In Deanna's last term...just before graduation. He was heading one of the student body political boards and she was...well, Deanna was always one for a cause. I don't remember exactly what she was protesting but they ended up working for some committee or another and...and fell in love." She smiled then, just a little and I knew she was lost in the past. "Deanna was strong-willed. Used to getting her way. Spoiled, some would say, but not in a mean way. My fault, I know. She couldn't abide limitations or restrictions. I couldn't stand keeping her back. She had such maturity...even when she was a child. Really took things to heart. She was passionate and charismatic and hellbent on changing the world. Her father and I didn't agree on much by that time but we both acknowledged that Deanna was a force to be reckoned with and let her go where her spirit moved her. Natalie was always the more serious...cerebral child. Natalie planned and measured and though she shared some of Deanna's passion and certainly her loyalty, she wasn't as impulsive. Natalie was happy to help but left the leadership roles to Deanna and I loved her all the more for it. They were always such good friends. I know some of the other mothers would talk about how their girls fought and sometimes couldn't stand each other but...that wasn't my girls. They completed each other, you know? Two halves of a whole. Natalie was shattered when she heard they'd found Deanna's body...she never gave up hoping that we'd find her sister alive. She...just wouldn't."Caroline Wayburn shook her head sadly. I suppose in the end...that kind of thinking might have made the news that much harder to take when they found Deanna but...we just couldn't be any other way, could we? Not until we knew for sure. Deanna...she was such a bright light. Never really had time for boys and dating and such...she liked her friends well enough...she was always surrounded by friends but boys...well, she only let them get so close and then she'd shut them down. And they flocked to her. She had a charm about her that just drew them to her but she was always so busy with this and that that she never gave them the time of day. Jeff was different. I knew...right from the start."

"And you two haven't really spoken since she was found."

"No. I think that we just both lost so much...there was no middle ground...no place for us to meet that wasn't painful. Deanna was our bridge...our connection. Without her...we were lost."

"And then what happened?"

"Hmm?"

"Sara, will you pull your attention away from the window and finish this conversation?"

I blinked and re-settled in the passenger seat of our rental car, just having realized my mind had indeed gone wandering. "Sorry. I was just, um, thinking. Where was I?"

Gil cast a glance in my direction, his eyebrows raised in disbelief that I had lost track but filled me in anyway. "She had just told you that not only was Jeff McKeen Sr Mitchell's father but that she came into town specifically to attend McKeen's memorial. And that she and Jeff Jr had lost track of one another along the way."

"Right."

"So I wanted to know what happened next."

"Oh. Apparently Jeff Sr and Jeff Jr...their relationship went from being very warm and supportive to extremely cold and distant...very quickly. She said she remembered being shocked that things had gone that way. The two men had seemed to be so close but when Deanna's body was found...they could hardly be in the same room with each. Jeff Sr had told Caroline that he was very worried about his son...that Jeff Jr had cut himself off from everyone...the grief over loosing Deanna had affected him so badly...but Caroline said that even though she hadn't stayed in contact with Jeff Jr, Jeff Jr was still in close contact with Natalie."

"Really? That's a little odd."

"Yeah. I thought so too. And apparently he did call Caroline once in a while but she knows for a fact that he'd pretty much cut off his father completely."

"Strange actions coming from the man now fighting for his dead father's reputation."

I nodded. "Yes. Doesn't seem to fit at all, does it?"

"And did she say anything else?"

"Um, not much. You see, she apologized for taking up so much of my time and pretty much decided that it was a good place to leave things with me."

"And you let her go…no further questions?"

I shrugged, "What else was I supposed to do?" I folded my arms moodily. "I need to talk to Jeff McKeen Jr."

"Sara, we already discussed this."

"That wasn't a discussion."

"Why? Why is it so important to you?"

I frowned, picking a piece of lint from my pants. "I think...he may have...murdered his father."

Gil's hands flexed on the wheel. "Excuse me? You think the man we met earlier, who was trying to protect his father's reputation and memory from the accusations of the FBI may actually be the one who did him in?"

"Sounds a little crazy when I say it out loud, doesn't it?"

Gil shrugged, "Crazy is a little extreme but it is a bit of a leap. Why?"

"Why do I suspect him?"

"Yes."

"Because I think the Undersheriff killed his son's fiancé. Or had her killed."

Gil hit his signal light and made a left turn before he commented. "That was an angle I hadn't considered. Evidence?"

I shook my head then realizing Gil might not have seen that answered, "None."

"Theories?"

"Not quite there yet. I need to think about it for a while."

"What made you...what made your mind head in this direction?"

"I don't know...it was just a gut reaction I had to what Carolyn Wayburn was saying...more how she was saying it I guess. And the fact that the Undersheriff had taken such a personal interest in Deanna's investigation and the son had all but exiled himself from any contact. I don't know...just didn't strike me as the kind of action the man we met today would take unless there was something else motivating him. It's hard to explain...and I'm not sure how the younger sister fits in here...or the video tape...but since she was the only person Jeff Jr kept in close contact with...makes you wonder, right?"

"Maybe it would have been helpful to ask Carolyn about Natalie. Seems like most of your focus was Deanna."

I shrugged. "You're right, it would have been, but Gil, I felt like I was walking a tightrope as it was. I mean, currently I'm the main suspect in her security man's homicide-"

"It's a technicality, Sara-"

"You don't know that for sure, Gil. According to Jim I was really looped. Looped enough to go, 'hunting trees with faces'. And before you say anything I read the damn report. It's there in black and white, word for word."

Obviously trying to swallow down a more caustic response to my agitated tone, Gil replied evenly, "So are the words, 'mitigating circumstances'. Don't forget, I read it too."

"Those words won't mean a damn thing if it turns out I pulled the trigger and you know it. I'd still have a homicide on my hand, 'mitigating circumstances' or no. I'd still be responsible."

"That's it!" With a pissed off swipe of the wheel, Gil turned the rental sharply into a mini mall parking lot and zipped into the first space he could find. He slammed the gear shift home and then rounded on me. "You know, I thought you were distracted about the new information you'd uncovered, but that's not it, is it? No, you're working yourself up over what happened in the woods before we ended up in the hospital!"

"Like you wouldn't be if you were in my place!"

"Sara-"

"Gil, I was really gone. Who knows what I did or didn't do in that missing time!"

"Give me a break-no, give yourself a break, here!"

"Gil-I can't. You're asking a lot and I know for a fact that it would torture you as much as me if you were in my place. I can't stand this...not knowing. I hate being this out of control."

"See, this is why you should have gone further with Carolyn Wayburn. We might have been able to piece a little more of this together and then we wouldn't be in the middle of this stupid-"

I cut him off ruthlessly, "I didn't think it was a good idea to keep questioning her without doing a little homework first, and after her hearing speak about her daughter and Jeff Jr...it got me thinking..."

He stared at me tight-lipped for several seconds before looking away and out into the street. "You can't control everything, Sara. You can't. There are many things that happen in this world and even though they affect you directly, you are not responsible for them. Not everything is your fault."

I watched a blue sedan pass in front of us and then a silver coupe before I finally squeaked out, "I know. I know, honestly. Sometimes, I can't help it."

He reached down, linked his fingers with mine but kept staring out the window. "Sara, we don't know anything concrete. There is a possibility we might not ever really sort out the full truth but that's neither here nor there. We can only pursue the evidence as far as it takes us. There may be something in that 'gut reaction' you felt today. Let's go home, get a couple hours of sleep and then pick it up again after." Then he gave a short laugh. "We have the memorial service this afternoon. May turn out to be more interesting than I originally thought. I know I'll be watching McKeen Jr very closely to see if his grief is a genuine as he had been projecting."

I gave his hand a squeeze before I answered. "Okay. I'll try to keep things moving forward. Let's roll." I lifted our hands and brought his fingers to my lips, settling a kiss on the back of his knuckles before reluctantly releasing it so he could drive.


	26. Chapter 26

Follow the Leader

Part XXVI

The memorial service was a typhoon of contradictions. While on the surface dignity, respect and ceremony seemed to be the themes of the day, just under that paper-thin level of propriety oozed a rapidly thickening goo of garish speculation and vicious innuendo.

Grissom sat stiffly at my side, formally dressed in a sombrely appropriate three piece suit, his eyes shaded from the glare of the mid-afternoon sun by his wide, tinted frames. It was a study in surreptitious misdirection because despite the fact that his head was tilted towards the current speaker I knew he was avidly scanning the crowds of faces around us. I knew because I was using my ray-bans for much the same purpose...except my attention was centred on just one individual.

The heat forced a trickle of perspiration to travel an agonizingly slow, winding trail down my back. I shivered a little at the sensation, crossing and re-crossing my legs to ease some of my discomfort, all without taking my eyes off the late Under-Sheriff's son. If Gil was still, Jeff McKeen Jr was a statue.

His face was a granite mask, cast in emotion so thick that it looked almost inhuman. Hollowed cheeks, with eyes circled dark from unrelieved strain, his mouth stretched thin in an uncompromising line of grief that was so sharp it looked painful. He sat in a chair on the dais that had been erected for the ceremony, barely breathing. Barely moving.

He did not acknowledge any of the speakers by way of a look or polite applause as the rest of us did.

He did not speak to anyone seated on either side of him.

He was alone in the centre of the masses; apart, remote and obviously determined to remain so.

He had been that way since we'd arrived with the exception of one brief encounter. When Gil and I had entered the gates of the memorial gardens, our arrival, purely by chance, had coincided with the arrival of Carolyn Wayburn. She gestured in greeting to both my husband and me but before she could approach, Jeff Jr had come up along her left side and intercepted her. Though Gil and I were too far away to hear any of their conversation we watched their interaction intently, both of us I think too surprised to be discreet about it, for whatever state Carolyn had believed their relationship to be in, it was obvious from Jeff's posture and manner that he still held her in great esteem. He gently took her small hand and clasped it warmly in both of his; bending low to speak softly for her ears alone, and brushed her cheek with his lips.

"It looks as though he's thanking her for coming..." I murmured, following his lips as closely as I could. "I think he's apologizing for not having met with her before the service."

Gil nodded. "Close. He actually said that he was sorry for being so thoughtless in not having sent his car to pick her up this morning. And that he knows this trip couldn't have been easy on her. He's now asking after her health. Making sure she managed to eat. Insisting on seating her himself." He said this last as Jeff Jr led Carolyn to the reserved section for VIPs and assisted her as she sat. "He just asked if there was anything else she needed before the ceremony, to which she responded, "No," and asked one of his aides to sit with her in case that should change. There's more but I can't tell now. I don't have a clear view."

I could feel my lips twitch in a most inappropriate manner as I linked my arm in the crook of Gil's. "Have I ever mentioned how handy it is to have someone who is versed in lip-reading at a time like this?"

"Good to know I'm serving a useful purpose," Gil responded, dryly.

"Doesn't quite follow with what Carolyn told me yesterday, does it?"

"No...but mind you that was her impression of the situation."

"Yes."

And that was it. Gil and I took our seats and Jeff Jr found his place on the dais and there hadn't been a single streak of emotion after that point from the Under-Sheriff's son.

The ceremony focussed on the Under-Sheriff's accomplishments in the line of duty, his citations, his civic achievements and skirted any of the gray areas under suspicion with the skill of a tightrope walker working without a net. Since none of the allegations had been proven and the suicide-though considered official, still under suspicion, there was no reference of any sort to the recent events in the Under-Sheriff's personal life until Jeff Jr approached the microphone.

With the poise of a practiced speaker, Jeff Jr settled in behind the podium and adjusted the microphone for his use. The assembly was relatively quiet during this process so as soon as he felt he was ready he raised his head and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, honoured guests, friends. On behalf of my father, I want to thank you for coming. You honour his memory and our family with your presence. During the course of the afternoon, you've heard many people speak about my father's professional life, his public service to this city...to his country and his dedication to the office of law enforcement. I am here to speak about the man behind the badge. The man who raised me. The man I called, 'Father'." He paused then, clearing his throat, before continuing. "My mother passed away before I could walk. My father never remarried, claiming that there was no one else for him but, "his Marie," and that now that she was gone there never would be. He created a family. It was just the two of us but it worked and it was strong and I grew up in a home and I knew I was loved. Though it's true that I cannot say that I have actual memories of my mother, I have the memories he gave me. The stories he told me about her. The pictures they took of each other and the places they'd seen. And I knew her love because of his love."

Jeff Jr went on to talk about their fishing trips and the years the Under-Sheriff had coached his baseball team and the fact that though his father had been offered certain positions and promotions during the course of his career that he'd actually refused some because he was concerned that the extra responsibilities would have interfered with him spending time with his son. "That's why when the mayor spoke earlier about my father's rapid progression through the ranks in the last few years it sounded a bit strange to me because for the longest time, he was simply a commanding officer at the main precinct here in Las Vegas. It wasn't until I had graduated high school that he allowed himself to indulge his interest in policy and politics. He was a passionate, decisive man deeply rooted in his beliefs. Never without an opinion. Always ready with an argument. We had spirited debates...which I suppose is a polite way of saying that we were both too bull-headed to back down from an argument...that covered every aspect of law enforcement from policy to procedure. Rules to punishment. Corruption to conviction. He challenged me. He inspired me. At times he was my toughest critic but he was always my strongest supporter."

It was at this point that Jeff Jr took a few moments to thank some of the people who had been instrumental in his father's achievements and a few more to speak briefly about some of community service organizations McKeen Sr had either worked with or supported during his lifetime. "My father was never afraid to work for what he wanted. He set goals and overcame obstacles and was well practiced in the art of thinking outside the box. He would have been very appreciative of the way so many of you have gathered here to reflect on his memory as am I. He had so many plans. So many dreams. His abrupt leaving of this world has left a gap that may take the hearts of many to fill. Important work still needs to be done to make Las Vegas a city that we all can be proud to call home so I encourage you to honour the memory of my father by offering some of your time and effort in support of the organizations that spoke here today. In that way, he will live on. Thank you."

I leaned in toward Gil and mouthed, "Short and...a little strange."

Gil nodded before turning his attention back to the podium.

The rest of the ceremony was really not remarkable at all. More pleasantries, more anecdotes but it was over well before I thought it would end. People began milling about, groups forming loosely to discuss their impressions of the afternoon and the proceedings. Catherine and Brass approached us and with an inclination of her head, Catherine gestured to a shaded tree, slightly apart from the rest of the gathering.

"Interesting tribute," Catherine murmured, making sure she couldn't be overheard by anyone close to us.

"A little tame," Brass said, "considering the way the son had been acting in Ecklie's office the last time we saw him."

"Yes," Catherine replied. "I fully expected him to be calling for vengeance...making veiled accusations...instituting a full investigation...something, but there was none of that at all."

"Yea," I replied, my eyes still following Jeff McKeen Jr despite our distance. "There was none of that was there? I was expecting to be verbally tarred and feathered but he didn't say one thing about his suspicions or current events."

"Maybe he felt that that kind of display here would have been demeaning and disrespectful."

I shrugged at my husband's interjection. "That's possible but I wouldn't bet the farm on it."

"And why is that?" Gil asked.

"He's a bourgeoning politician, right? And from all accounts a good one at that. Smart, silver-tongued. Most likely a shoe-in for the mayor's chair." My answer was delivered lazily as I realized that Jeff Jr was slowly and methodically making his way through the throng of mourners. Though he was trying to appear casual about it, he obviously had somewhere to go.

"You're thinking that a smart politician would have used this situation differently. For the publicity if nothing else," Brass said. "Yep, me too. I was just as surprised as you were that he steered clear of it completely."

"So...I guess the question is, "Why?" Catherine said, shifting slightly to get a better view of McKeen Jr herself.

I bit my lip, running the words through in my head carefully before voicing them out loud. "Because...I think it was all an act." Just then I saw something that seemed a little out of place. Jeff Jr had picked up a shadow. Or so it seemed from this distance. A young man, thin, too casually dressed for this occasion and certainly not in mourning colours. When Jeff zigged and zagged the shadow did the same though I wasn't exactly sure if Jeff was aware of it.

"What was? His performance here today?"

"Hmmm?"I asked.

"You're tuning out again, Sar," Gil said with a nudge at my arm. "Jim was asking which performance was the act."

"Oh. Both I suppose but…" I shook my head, "I was originally referring to his tirade in Ecklie's office yesterday."

"Really," Catherine drawled. "Interesting observation considering that neither you nor Gil was actually present during said tirade."

"You gave us the gist," I replied, frowning, realizing I'd lost sight of Jeff Jr and the other man in the middle of one of the larger groups of people. I scanned the crowds looking for them but kept coming up short. "I think he was sincere enough about his childhood but anything after that…" My heart was beginning to pound. Something was off. "Dammit."

"What?"

"I can't see him," I growled back…not necessarily AT my husband but most certainly in his direction.

Catherine turned immediately, already following my meaning. "McKeen? He's gone?"

"Yes, and his shadow."

"Excuse me?" Brass said as he and Gil joined in on scanning the crowd.

"The person who was tailing him a minute ago," I replied, taking a few steps in the parallel direction I'd last seen them heading.

"Someone was following him? Why didn't you tell us?"

"I wasn't sure at first but I was going to say something a minute before they disappeared." My steps were quickening, so in turn, the others had to race to keep up. "I thought at first it could be someone who just wanted to offer condolences but their sudden disappearance is not sitting well with me at all."

"No, it's strange." Not one to speculate, Gil clasped my elbow and pulled me to a stop. "We can cover more ground if we split up." He turned to address Catherine and Brass. "I'll stick with Sara, you two circle around the other side." He pulled his cell and wriggled it. "We'll keep you posted."

Brass did the same, taking a moment to turn on the ringer. "I'm a little over dressed for a game of 'Follow the Leader" but I'll do my best," he replied before they split off in the other direction.


	27. Chapter 27

Follow the Leader

Part XXVII

Gil and I didn't waste breath or energy with words. I set off for the last spot I'd seen McKeen Jr and he trailed me as faithfully as ever. We hurried but tried not to look like we were hurrying. We searched but struggled to look casual. The effort wasn't easy and I'm sure it wasn't altogether successful. Several heads turned in our direction as we bolted past the remaining attendees but no one tried to stop us or ventured a comment. They obviously knew we had somewhere else to be.

The first part of our journey had been across manicured grass but as we reached the point where I'd last seen Jeff, our feet met up with a paved path that split into two sections farther ahead. We paused for a moment to see how far Catherine and Jim had made it only to find they were practically on our heels.

"There's nothing back there," Catherine reported as she reached us.

"Just open land and headstones. This area up ahead is the only developed section of this garden," Jim said, landing just on her heels.

"If memory serves, the grounds keeping buildings and management offices are just beyond those trees," Gil said, wiping his face with a handkerchief. "The trees act as sort of a clever camouflage to preserve the natural look of the gardens."

"Let's keep moving," I urged and we continued on, Cat and Jim once again taking the right path and Gil and I taking the left.

"This is the maintenance side," my husband said, as we got closer to the copse of trees. "There's two or three maintenance sheds that house everything from rakes to riding mowers and a larger building that's used for storage and the receiving of caskets and such."

"You know a lot about this place," I said with a frown. "What gives?"

"I get around," Gil replied with a gruesome grimace. "I've made it a point to be on the contact list for most of the memorial gardens. That way when something 'interesting' pops up, I'm usually the first person they think to call. I've been here more times than I can count. The manager and I exchange Christmas cards."

"There's something sad about that," I told him.

"Yes, there is," he replied, "but it's part of what helps us stay one step ahead of the bad guys and I'm willing to do what has to be done."

Gil was almost correct in his recollection of the layout with the exception that there were actually four buildings, not three. Stone structures with natural wood accents sat in harmony with exceptionally detailed flowerbeds and manicured flagstone paths. We peeked through the windows of the first two, but seeing no movement went on to the third. We were going to repeat the process but raised voices from the fourth building had us abandoning that course of action and racing toward the last building.

Gil touched my shoulder and pointed to the far side of the receiving house, and I took his suggestion without question. After all, he certainly knew the layout better than I. The shouting got louder as we approached. Though most of the words were garbled and angry explicatives from this distance, we did hear a couple of names that almost stopped us in our tracks: Natalie and Deanna.

"This doesn't sound good, Gil," I whispered, moving steadily closer.

"No," he whispered back, dogging my steps.

"We need back-up."

"Yes," he said, grabbing the crook of my arm. Then he gave me a look, his intention to send me for help obvious. I could feel my eyebrow rise in challenge. There was a pause. Then he said, "I could make it an order."

I shrugged. "You could try." When he continued to stare at me, I shook my head at him. "Don't bother. We both stay or we both go. End of story." He gave in with a stone-faced nod and we continued forward until we were both plastered against the side of the building.

A large delivery door had been left open which afforded us a clear sightline of the two men inside the building as well as an exceptional eaves dropping post. "Did you know this would be open?" I mouthed.

"I'd hoped," Gil replied, his voice barely a whisper in my ear, as he spooned my back. "No matter what happens, Sara, we stay put. No heroics."

I nodded, my attention already wrapped up in the 'conversation' I was witnessing. I picked my smart phone out of my pocket and hit the video record button. I didn't know how much sound it would pick up at this distance but it was worth a shot.

Jeff McKeen Jr was on his feet, heaving, shaking his right hand as if in pain. The other man was struggling to get off the concrete floor. His lip was split and there was blood trickling down the side of his face.

"I know him," Gil breathed into my ear. "I questioned him last week on the video."

Again I nodded, and adjusted the phone for a better angle.

"What the hell, man? What the hell?" All I did was _ask_ you where Natalie was!" He raised a hand to his jaw and worked it, trying to ease some of his pain.

The under-sheriff's son wasted no time in explaining. "You bastard! You were supposed to protect her. That was all you had to do! Just protect her! But no! You had to get creative! You had to have everything your own way! She's dead, you dickhead! Dead! I claimed her body myself! You fucking got her killed and if it's the last thing I do I'm going to see you pay for it!"

"Dead? She's...she can't be. She can't be! She was fine. She was fine when I left her. She was supposed to meet me after we dressed the scene."

"She's dead. She's gone. I buried her last week. She's dead and it's all because of you...and me...we killed her. We thought we were so smart but we killed her."

" She was-she...oh god...OH GOD! I didn't know! Man, you gotta believe me! I didn't know. I thought she...she was ok."

"She never made it. She was killed in that condo. Strangled. Did you think they'd let you do that shit without having a back-up plan just in case? They had you followed. They checked your 'work'. These people don't mess around. They don't play games. Too much is at stake. Why did you leave her there? Alone? Why didn't she leave with you?"

"It...it was the...it was the...bedding. She kept saying how it wasn't right. She told me to go. That she'd fix it and head out. We-we didn't know how much longer we had and if she was caught there, she figured she could talk her way out of it, you know? I was already a suspect. I couldn't be...they couldn't catch me there...shit! Shit! I can't believe...I can't believe she's dead!"

"She is. They strangled her. Must have walked in and found her there. They wouldn't let her live. There was too much at stake." Jeff staggered, collapsing to sit on a crate, holding his head. "How could you not know? Didn't you wonder why she hadn't contacted you?" For a man who only moments ago looked so collected and controlled, he was disintegrating in front of our eyes.

A trickle of fear climbed my spine. The confrontation was going from bad to worse. Though the shouting had stopped, the tension was soaring. These two men were falling apart in front of us and there was absolutely nothing we could do about it without giving away our presence. Sensing that we were standing on dangerous ground, Gil pulled out his smart phone and began texting for back-up. Surprisingly his grip on me didn't slacken.

"She said she was going back to her mother's place to lay low. Said to wait for her call. That we couldn't see each other just in case they caught on...Oh god! Oh god!"

Jeff dropped his hands. "You expect me to believe this?"

"Man, I don't give a shit what you believe. I can't...I can't believe...she's gone. Nat-Natalie-" The younger man dropped to his knees. "Shit. Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!" He scrubbed at his ears as if that could erase everything he'd just heard. "That's...that's why I came here today. I wanted-wanted you to give her this." He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and tossed it at the feet of the under-sheriff's son. "We were getting married. She was going to marry me and we were going to leave Vegas for good. Leave all of the crap behind for good. I was going to take her away from this hell-hole for good."

Jeff Jr laughed then, but the sound was anything but cheerful. "What the hell made you think you could leave this behind you? That you could escape? You poor stupid bastard. You're in this. You're in this so deep...we're both in this so deep!" His words dribbled off as he pulled a pistol from his pocket.

"He's got a gun!" I whispered furiously at my husband pulling against his embrace that had suddenly tightened.

"Be still. How the hell did he get that past security?" he asked, looking around for something to act as a make shift weapon.

"We'll worry about that later! Come on!"

Seeing nothing useful, my husband held his ground. "Wait! We're not rushing in there unarmed!"

"We can't stay out here and do nothing! Gil, he's going to kill that other man!"

"I've sent for back-up-"

"It won't make it-"

Right on the heels of my words came the younger man's cry. "Whoa! Whoa, man, what are you doing? What are you doing? Put it down man, and we'll talk about this, okay? Put it down!"

Jeff McKeen Jr shook his head. "I can't. I can't." The pistol was poised now, pointed at the other man with intent and concentration. " Justice. That's what all of this has been about, right? Justice for Deanna. For me. For Natalie. For Mitchell. That's what we did it for. Right? To make everything right. To make them pay."

"We did make them pay," the other man reasoned. "We did. Your father's dead. The FBI is investigating...they'll get them. We did what we set out to do. We did it. Just like we planned."

"Natalie's dead! Mitchell's dead! Don't you get it? It's our fault. We killed them!"

"We didn't kill them, those bastards your father was involved with killed them. The mob killed them."

Jeff was standing again now, trembling. "No. No. We did it. We brought them into this and we made them targets. The mob wouldn't have ever had any interest in them at all if it wasn't for us. We're to blame. You..and...me." He clicked the safety off the gun.

The other man held his hands up instinctively. Sweating profusely, he tried to reason with McKeen. "They wanted to help! They insisted on being involved. We couldn't-hell, you know how she was! You know...knew Natalie. She wasn't going to let them get away. She wanted to help. She needed to help. For her sake. For Deanna's!"

There was movement behind us. I could see it out of the corner of my eye. Between five and ten law enforcement officials were creeping up on us and I could only imagine that there were as many circling the other side of the building as well. Gil noticed them too and began pulling me stealthily away from our position and backing out of the line of fire. I kept filming. I had to and he let me but made sure that we made as much progress away from the building as the police made towards it.

"We were supposed to protect her!" Jeff was shouting now. "We loved her and we should have protected her and we didn't. She was my fiancé's little sister...my little sister and I let her... Now she's in a hole in the ground because we didn't do our jobs! Because I wasn't strong enough to stand up to her...to my father. It's not enough. We can't let it end like this. We can't. I thought we could but when I saw him...when I saw my father's casket this morning, I knew. I knew it wasn't over. I knew..."

"Don't! Don't shoot man! This isn't going to help anybody! They'll still be dead, man!"

Suddenly there were shouts of, "Freeze! Police!" and "Drop your weapons!" but it was too late. It was just too late. Jeff was too far gone for orders. He had his own agenda.

"Yes, they'd still be dead but at least I won't have to hear their screams." And with that, he raised the pistol to his temple and fired a shot...point blank.


	28. Chapter 28

Follow the Leader

Chapter XXVIII

The click of a small personal recorder sounded deafeningly loud in the tiny confines of the lab's break room. A voice from beyond the grave, grainy with age and strained with despair, honked from the tiny machine, in tight, wearied tones.

"_Caroline...Caroline, if you're listening to this...if you're listening to this...then...I'm gone. Either by my hand or theirs...but I'm gone and you're probably dealing with a hell of a mess. But things are getting...dangerous. And I know...I know it's not going to make a difference...not now, anyway...it's obviously too late...but...I couldn't leave you without letting you know...without trying to explain...I'm not going to apologize. I can't. Not because I don't feel remorse but because it just...it wouldn't be enough. I can't atone for everything that's happened. I tried to make things right but I know...I know nothing I do will ever make up for what I've done to you and to the daughter you loved._

"Daughter? But there were two-" Greg interrupted.

"Wait," Gil said softly.

"_It started out simply enough. A comment posted on a page meant to be a joke but unfortunately turned into something beyond comprehension. No one was supposed to get hurt. Everyone was just supposed to laugh and go on with their lives. No one was supposed to take it seriously. No one was supposed to get angry. No one was supposed to die..."_

There was the obvious sound of the recorder having been turned off then restarted and the voice carried on.

"_The newspaper article, for the most part, was ignored. Dismissed by many as the joke I meant for it to be...but for a certain few...it became an unintentional threat that struck at the very heart of their operation. Little did I know what kind of impact it would have...or how close I came to the mark._

"_There were threats...the inevitable pressure...blackmail...in the end I had no choice but to bow under. Well...no, that's not true. I had a choice. I just wasn't man enough to make it. It was easier...simpler...I just had to turn a blind eye to what was happening in my own backyard. I just had to pretend I was ignorant and that was easy enough to do as long as I could keep my hands clean..._

"_But as familiarity grew, so did boldness. People became relaxed, less vigilant about covering tracks...too god-damn cocky for their own good. We had a good relationship...it was carefully balanced until that one night when some shit for brains rooky pushed things too far. One power hungry sonuvabitch decided to have his cake and eat it too and it screwed us all. And someone died that shouldn't have died._

"_There was blood on their hands...and blood on my hands...couldn't be ignored...couldn't be erased. I was in it deep...deeper than I'd ever realized I would be and...even though I wasn't there...even though I didn't find out what had happened until it was long over...I was every bit as guilty as the person who'd fired the gun. _

"_I was left with two choices. Admit what I'd done and ruin my life beyond recognition or try to make it look like an accident. Hide the evidence or forfeit my life. In the end, the decision wasn't as difficult as I first thought it would be. My lack of integrity was astonishing, even to myself._

"_I never dreamed...I never thought..." _

There was a weary groan...half sigh, half moan before the speaker continued.

"_But then there's nothing brave about sacrificing another to escape persecution. It is the worst kind of cowardice made only marginally more bearable by the fact that at first, I had no idea whose life I would be destroying for the sake of my own."_

"_When they told me...when I found out...what they had done to Deanna...to her...to...to..."_

There was a strangled gasping sound and the overloud clicking of the stop button once more.

"_I swear I didn't know. I swear I didn't. I would have done anything to save...They said she was snooping around...she was, but I still don't know how they found out. I'd tried to keep her out of it but she was just so damn...persistent. She was so smart, your little girl. So smart. She didn't believe me when I told her nothing was going on. I knew she didn't but I thought...I didn't think she'd go after them on her own. I didn't think...They-They called her convenient. At first, I didn't think they knew of her connection to me...but well, someone did. _

"_When they found Deanna's body, dumped at the side of the road like some stinking pile of garbage...something...snapped..._

"_I knew I had to do something...I knew I couldn't go on...not like this...not now..."_

"_I decided to turn tail on my associates...determined that I would take them down if it killed me...one way or another. The trick was to make it look like they'd gotten caught without my involvement. I wasn't about to take the chance that another member of my family would pay the price for my stupidity. I didn't care about my own life. As far as I was concerned, there was no exit plan for me but my family...I had to make it work for them. _

"_I planned it all perfectly down to the last detail. I made lists, calculated my error margin, covered my tracks flawlessly. I shouldn't have been caught. I shouldn't have even been a suspect. I controlled everything that was in my power to control and it looked as though I had gotten away with it. _

"_The house of cards that I'd been buried beneath for so many years looked like it was finally going to topple with no one the wiser as to who had sent it reeling. One by one the people at the centre of the organization were finding themselves powerless...behind bars...ruined...and no one seemed to be wise as to why or how their group was being pulled apart...brick by fucking brick. My plan had worked like a charm. After months of double checking and looking over my shoulder, I let down my guard and went on with my life._

"_It was the combination of a strange set of circumstances that changed everything I'd set in place. Nothing logical…just a hunch followed by an investigator…no evidence, no proof…just a feeling. That feeling led to a question…a question that caught me off guard. I hesitated…for the smallest of moments…a heartbeat…a breath…and just like that I knew I was back to square one._

"_Grissom. Grissom...he doesn't even realize what he has...and I have to stop him in his tracks before he does...before he gets wrapped up in this like I did...before someone he loves pays the ultimate price."_

Another tell-tale click. A few seconds of dead space and then...

"_Stupid! Stupid fucking kid! Everything went to hell. When I saw her picture...saw the tape...my life squeezed down to the tiniest of realities. The plan should have worked. No one should have gotten hurt. Damn them all to hell! I should have...I should have..._

"_I had to do something! I had to do something to make it all stop...I couldn't just stand still!_

"_My son's involved now. He knows something is going on and that I'm involved but he doesn't understand exactly why and how deep. I can't tell him. I can't risk him. But he's determined to avenge Natalie. It's only a matter of time. Never in my wildest imaginings did I ever think that he and I would be on opposing sides. Never."_

The dialogue stopped and there was a prolonged pause...longer than any of the previous ones. When the voice started speaking again, there was such desperation...such pain...

"_There's a rumour floating around the lab that he's quit. That he went into Ecklie's office and quit. I'm finding that hard to believe. I didn't think getting rid of Grissom would be that easy but I know Ecklie's talked to Willows about the supervisor's position on graveshift so that makes it difficult not to trust what I've been told..._

"_Dammit! I thought this was over. I thought he would see it through to the end but the bastard up and quit on me! Now what am I going to do? Start over?"_

There was a humourless laugh that sounded almost deranged.

"_Maybe my gamble paid off. Maybe I got away with murder a second time. Only time will tell. I guess I'm one lucky Sonuvabitch!" _

This time when the machine went silent, it was obvious that there was nothing else recorded on the digital memory.

Bodies shifted, throats cleared. People came back from their "listening" places and slowly became aware of the other members of the team that shared the table with them. No words were spoken just yet...I think people were still too busy interpreting everything that they'd heard and trying to make it fit with everything they'd experienced to date.

Catherine was the first to break the uneasy silence. "I'm...I'm having a difficult time processing this. That was...I expected..."

"You thought you were going to hear the words of the son and instead..." Gil let his voice trail off, his face carefully neutral.

Greg looked at him shrewdly, trying to gage my husband's reaction. "You're having a harder time accepting this than we are, aren't you Grissom? You think it's a fake."

Gil shook his head, his forehead wrinkling now as he frowned at the personal recorder. "No. On the contrary, I'm reasonably certain it's genuine. I also believe that it's probably the very reason we are all sitting here discussing the late Under-Sherriff's confession while his son lies on Doc Robbins slab from a self-inflicted wound. Why we got such a tender, heart-felt profession of grief from Jeff McKeen Jr at the funeral today and then were treated to a psychotic breakdown mere minutes later." He leaned back in his chair, wiped his glasses from his face wearily and tried to roll the tension from the knotted muscles in the back of his neck. "I told you...days ago...I told you I felt like I was being pulled in two different directions at once. That I was being played. Now...I'm almost certain...that we weren't the only ones."

"There were a lot of groups playing power games here and we were caught in the crossfire," Catherine said, shrugging her agreement.

"I can't imagine what Jeff Jr was going through," I said softly. "It's a wonder he was able to function at all. Do we know how a message that was obviously meant for Caroline Wayburn ended up in the pocket of Jeff Jr's jacket?" A negative shake of the head was all of the answer I got. There was another gap in words as each of us absorbed what had been said and struggled to draw our own conclusions. I studied the faces around me...finally settling on Gil's. He looked so tired. I suppose we both were. We'd been going non-stop since early that morning. Most of the people in the room could make the same claim. He stared at the recorder, shadows playing over the glaze of his eyes. "Want to walk us through it, Gil?" I asked him quietly, knowing he'd made some leaps of logic and was sailing far ahead of the rest of us but unsure if he was ready to share.

He shook his head. "Wish I could. I don't have all the answers yet and I'm a little wary of drawing conclusions before you all have a chance to work through this first. I'd be afraid we'd miss something vital. Besides, too many holes need to be filled. To be honest, I think I have more questions than answers right now." He cleaned his glasses with a soft cloth he kept in his desk drawer for just such a thing, squinting in the bright glare of overhead lights. "But it's very obvious...if we take these recordings at face value that...McKeen Sr had an agenda, was involved in a life and death battle with criminal forces and at times, was both mastermind and victim in this mess." He settled his lenses on the bridge of his nose and templed his fingers as he looked around the room. "Archie's going to take a second look at this. His first go-over was hurried...thorough but incomplete. However, seeing as we are unsure as to how much friction we're going to get from the FBI regarding our evidence, records and any further investigation we may wish to do, we considered it important to let all of you hear what was on the machine in its entirety as soon as possible. We," and here he indicated Brass, Ecklie and himself, "wanted everyone's input on this."

"A good old-fashioned brainstorming session, eh Gris?" Greg said, rubbing his hands gleefully. "All hands on deck!"

"Yes," Conrad Ecklie jumped in, pulling away from the wall he'd been leaning against and checking his watch. "We could have an hour...we could have more...we could have less. For all we know, the FBI may want us to stay on. That would be the intelligent way to handle this but we all know from experience that that is not the way they tend to do things. And while, frankly, I'd almost prefer to wash my hands of this entirely and let the FBI run with it, we have too much personally invested in the outcome of some of this business to let the chips fall where they may. I've got a call in with one of the agents we met with the other day. Despite the fact that he struck me as a bit of ass, I'm hoping he'll see the benefit of working in partnership with us to find the answers we need." He shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunched. "The reputation of this lab, its people and its very foundation has been shaken by these events. I want to assign as much blame as we can. Lock down our facts. Hopefully, hearing what was on this tape, fact or fiction, gave us all a little more insight into the sheriff's motives and might help us trace his actions with a little more clarity. Up to this point, we've been working blind. Totally blind." The hunch of his shoulders spoke clearly of how deeply this mess had hit him and I supposed his attitude didn't surprise me. He'd been a fine point of aggravation more than once in most of our lives but there was little doubt that Conrad Ecklie took both his responsibilities as director for the lab and the lab's reputation itself very seriously. He moved toward the door, saying as he went, "Jim, Gil, I'll let you know the minute I hear from them. You two are taking lead. This is priority, people. I've already got calls out for every available tech and investigator I could reach. For the next three hours...providing I don't receive orders to the contrary...use whatever resources you have at your disposal."

Fifteen minutes later, after a detailed discussion of procedure, the group in Gil's office broke up. Teams had been given assignments, lines of investigation to follow and the freedom to pull whomever they could from other assignments to assist. Like a pebble tossed into a lake, a ripple of activity and purpose was set in motion that spread in an ever-expanding circle to include the half the lab and a good portion of the police services division as well. I suppose that insurgence of energy and purpose wasn't really surprising. Everyone in the force had felt the angry whip of the press, the accusatory censure, the heavy finger of reproof. Though the FBI had been as circumspect as they could be in such circumstances, there was little doubt in the public eye that something very sinister and underhanded was being cloaked by the official, "No comment," stance of the department officials.

Forty minutes later, I was cross-referencing every case that the Under-Sherriff had had any kind of involvement in, hoping that some names would pop. That some procedure would stand out as being incomplete or unsupported. It was frustrating, mind-numbing, time consuming work but as we'd yet to hear back from the FBI it was the logical starting place if we wanted to get an idea of who McKeen had been involved with.

Two hours later, just as I was going cross-eyed from scanning data, I got lucky.

I had just started examining the series of files that dated to approximately six months previous to Deanna's disappearance and there it was.

At first I'm ashamed to say, I didn't clue in to it. In fact, I believe it took seeing the name of the primary detective in charge of the various cases I was currently crosschecking come up three times before my brain registered what I was seeing and made the necessary connections. I quickly called up subsequent files and sure enough, for over half of the files that the Under-Sherriff had personally overseen, the same detective's name was listed as the primary investigating officer. The ratio was more than three to one over any other detective whom Under-Sherriff McKeen had worked with.

Now that fact, in and of itself, was not really that unusual. Many of us are teamed with certain detectives because of the shifts we work, our specialties...sometimes even our personalities. Odds are you'll get assigned cases with certain people over and over just because of availability. I'm sure the same could be said of the Under-Sherriff and his resources.

No, the ratio wasn't nearly as interesting as the name itself...one I remembered Gil cursing in the living room of our townhome only a few short days ago. Gil had said that he'd been pushed into the interviews. That he'd felt pressure to proceed with the investigation even though he wasn't at all certain they had enough of a grasp on the case to go forward.

My stomach started doing a fluttery, queasy little dance, and I knew...I knew...there was a connection here that went far beyond the obvious.

Especially as the detective, Stuart Osland, shared the same last name as our only living witness, Jared, the young man currently under sedation at Desert Palm.


	29. Chapter 29

_**Follow the Leader**_

_**Part 29**_

Though the outside of the hospital looked more like a casino than a health facility, I still found it difficult to walk through the front doors. In addition to the fact that any trip to the hospital caused my stomach to churn with nerves, I had to contend with both the sticky emotional residue from my most recent visit and twisted excitement in my gut that told me we might finally be getting some answers.

I'd decided to take on the interview solo and though Gil had strenuously objected at first, he'd eventually been convinced to give in so that he could keep his energies focused on the lab. We were at a critical juncture of the investigation. If anything else popped, he needed to be at ground zero to take advantage of it so there was little point in him, or anyone else for that matter, to be playing my shadow. The uniforms we'd assigned for security would stand as my back-up.

Due to the nature of his condition and the fact that he was, at present, possibly the only surviving witness to a multitude of on-going investigations, Jared Osland had been give a private room in the high security wing of Desert Palm Hospital, complete with a compliment of armed guards outside his door. I flashed my badge at the main reception for the wing, surrendered my weapon as per regulations, signed in and waited for the necessary clearance from both the wing security and the attending physicians. Though the process took no more than twenty minutes, I found the delay trying. Patience had never been one of my stronger traits. I spent the time checking my email, looking over the notes I'd made and the questions I intended to ask as well as putting my voice recording app on the ready. It had been decided that for my best interest (and for Osland's) that my having a digital record of this interview would be advantageous. I'd agreed readily enough but silently questioned whether or not Osland would give his consent. For that reason, I decided to carry two recorders…well, technically, the official one and my personal recorder on my phone. Should he not give consent, I would have my phone version as a back up. The stealth recording may not be admissible in court, but the possibility that I might miss a detail that could give us another lead was just unthinkable. I just hoped I would capture something worth listening to.

I was greeted and then escorted to Osland's room by Dr. Emiliea Carval, the doctor assigned to his primary care. Dr. Carval was a petite woman, probably no taller than 5'2", but carried an air of authority and confidence that made you doubt the physical evidence of her height as perceived by your eyes. The addition of a long, flowing mane of silky dark hair did little to correct first impressions of a pretty, intelligent, youthful college student. She didn't look old enough to drink let alone be anyone's doctor but on the multiple occasions I'd had to observe her in the past, she left little doubt as to who was in charge when she was on the scene. There was no other doctor I trusted more so I was very glad to see that she was the person working with Osland.

"So…how's he doing?"

"Physically, he's holding steady," she told me wearily, tightening the elastic that secured her ponytail. "Shock can be tricky and every bit as deadly as a pulmonary incident if it's not treated correctly. I didn't think we were going to save this one. I'm not sure if he wanted to be saved."

I felt my mouth pull into a frown, my mind replaying the previous day's events in vivid colour. "You may be right. Witnessing a violent suicide minutes after you find out the woman you love is dead-had been for more than a week-that could short circuit anyone."

Carval held up a hand. "Dr. Grissom explained in detail. You were both there…through it all?"

I nodded.

"Enough said. Osland's stable. Practically cationic but stable. Your questions…you're welcome to ask him but you may not get anything in return. If he does respond to you, then maybe we're a little further along than I expected. If he doesn't respond, then we're no worse off than we were before you came."

"Grissom said you'd been trying to contact his next of kin-his father. Any luck so far?"

"That was going to be my next question to you," Carval answered with a negative shake of her head. "We've left messages at the station, on his personal lines and through his email. No response as of yet. Thought you guys would have had better luck. After all, his father is one of yours, isn't he?"

"Yes," I answered with some impatience, knowing we'd had to assign precious resources to the matter of locating the Under Sheriff's former right-hand man. "There's a good possibility that Stuart Osland is at the centre of all this. It's also possible that he is yet another victim and we just haven't found his body yet. At the very least, we're positive that he's got some important information pertaining to several connected investigations. Until a couple of hours ago, we'd been completely unaware of the depth of his connection. It's probable…well, he's in the wind. No one has seen or heard from him in days. We have an APB out on him now. We're just hoping something will break. In the meantime, I'm going to proceed with the questioning of his son. It was obvious from the scene I witnessed at the memorial that Jared didn't have all the answers but at least, if he is able, he can answer for his part in this. Maybe give us a lead on his father that we haven't covered."

"Good luck," Carval said as she pressed open the door to Osland's room. "We'll be monitoring vitals at the nurse's station. If you sense he's in trouble hit the call button. We'll come running."

"Will do." I nodded at the two officers on the door then gestured for the one nearest to proceed me into the room.

The lights had been dimmed out of respect for what some would call normal sleeping hours. The man who lay in the bed didn't look old enough to drink, let alone be involved in this horrible situation but this was Las Vegas and first impressions were rarely all they seemed. He didn't look up as I approached. I'm not sure he even blinked as I walked around the base of the bed and into his line of sight. When there was still no reaction or recognition, I spoke quietly into the stillness of the room, the sound carefully as muted as the lights. "Mr. Osland, I'm Sara Sidle Grissom. I'm from the Las Vegas crime lab and I'd like to ask you a few questions." It was my standard opening line, and as good a place as any to start.

There was a pause and a deep, moaning wheeze of breath before Jared's eyes lifted to mine briefly before sliding away. "I know who you are," he rasped. The anguished sound was forced from a throat that sounded like it had been ravaged by tears or screams. "You've got a lot of nerve showing up here, bitch." Hard eyes held mine, hatred and disgust spewing from them, as his limbs strained against the padded restraints that held him to the bed.

I stepped back, shocked by both his vehemence and his rage. Of all the reactions I had expected, this one hadn't even registered on my radar. "Excuse me?"

"Dirty bitch cop!" he swore at me, still struggling to get free of the restraints. "How much?"

"How much? How much what?"

"HOW MUCH WAS SHE WORTH, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT?" He screamed the question at me, almost coming off the bed in his fury, despite the tight bindings. His bellow had the door opening and the guard officers bursting into the room, side arms at the ready, closely followed by Dr. Carvel and a male nurse.

"I'm okay," I said, shakily, so confused I couldn't begin to respond to Osland's question.

"What happened?" Carval demanded, checking the blood pressure monitor and the connections between the IV and her patient, while Jared Osland fought their attentions with every ounce of strength in his body.

"I don't know," I told her, backing away a little more to give them room to work. "I introduced myself and he…he just lost it."

"Damnit, George, pin him down before he strips everything out," Carval shouted through gritted teeth as she eyed the monitors. "His blood pressure's through the roof! Shit! We're going to have to sedate him. Everybody clear out. Now!"

I didn't need to be told twice and promptly exited with the guards, reeling at the scene I'd just witnessed. As the door closed, I could still hear his ranting ringing in the room except now he was shouting, "Get her back in here! Get that bitch back! Don't let her go! She killed her! She killed her and she needs to pay! She needs to pay!"

"What in the hell is he on about?" one of the officers asked me and I shrugged helplessly, shaking my head.

"I honestly have no idea."

"Well whatever it is, it's taking both docs to settle him down," the other officer commented. "He sure doesn't like you."

"Thanks," I said dryly, staring at Osland through the window in the heavy door to his room. Every second or so, he'd manage to get a clear sighting of the door and me in the window and he'd spew more anger in my direction. I wasn't surprised when Carval waved me away. I took a few steps away to lean against the opposite wall, stuffed my hands in my jean pockets and mulled over what little I'd witnessed.

Though it felt longer, it must have been just a few minutes later that Dr. Carval exited the room with a very stern look on her face. "I thought he was just a witness in an ongoing investigation."

Not really sure what she was after, I answered carefully, "He is."

"You should have told me you had a personal relationship with Mr. Osland."

"But I don't-"

"That's not what he's saying."

"He's mistaken. The only contact I've ever had with that man occurred in that room a few minutes before he started yelling. He may have seen me at the cemetery yesterday but I wasn't part of his processing and we didn't converse."

"We need to have a discussion," Carval told me and I fell into step with her as we worked our way down to an empty room at the far end of the hallway. She shut the door tightly and fired out, "Okay, in detail, what happened?"

Already prepared for the third degree I was sure was going to follow the fiasco in Osland's room, I held up my phone and hit the replay button on my voice recorder. She listened silently and attentively through the brief recording and when it was finished asked, "That's it?"

"Yes. I was every bit as surprised as everyone else when he exploded the way he did." I put my phone back in my pocket and growled in frustration. "Believe me, I wish I had an idea what he has against me. None of what he said made any sense at all."

"Sara, he not only claims to know you, but claims he did a favor for you and your husband that helped save his life."

"What?"

"He also says that you repaid him by murdering his girlfriend and that if he had have known you were on the take like all the rest of them he would have taken you out himself."


End file.
